#sweater weather AU

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Operation Campfire

Part I

"We need to leave."

Quiet and unobtrusive, Akai has slipped up to Rei through the sea of people around them. He really needs to stop doing that; the warm, low voice, barely a whisper in Rei's ear, makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

It's not even been twenty minutes. This is going to be a long, long night.

He's lucky the attention of the guests is on the stage; otherwise, someone might notice the flush creeping up his cheeks at Akai's too-close proximity. It's nice, in a way, to know he'll come this close; gods know Akai's not particularly comfortable with most people, prefers to keep his distance. The fact he doesn't, with Rei, in a public space no less, is an admission of their mutual trust.

It's also highly inconvenient, right now, because it sends a shiver down Rei's spine.

He manages to supress the movement, barely, and focuses on the issue at hand. Leaning back against Akai would be very lovely and all, but this is hardly the time nor place for it. He already has a reputation of cozying up to the FBI too much - and that's with his colleagues barely knowing half the things he and Akai have been up to. He can't afford to give them more ammunition.

In fact, he's here tonight for precisely the opposite purpose. He has an image to improve.

It is a little annoying, though. Because it should be their night. Theoretically. The celebration of five long years of undercover work, coming to a successful conclusion. Food and drinks on the house, how lovely.

As it stands, however, being himself would probably be a disaster. He's going to be Amuro, tonight, and he's going to do a lot of networking and very little else.

(They've got their own celebration planned in a couple of days, anyways. Just Hiro, Akai, and himself, on vacation for the first time in years.)

Between an hour of speeches, another hour of rewards for key figures, food and drink and dance, Rei's not particularly looking forward to the night. But he's got superiors to bedazzle, and he's not going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers - especially not for an idiot that hasn't managed to apologize, properly, for trampling all over Rei's feelings.

Akai has certainly tried; has even had flowers delivered to him.

(At least Rei presumes it was him; there's very few people that know his new address, even fewer with reason to apologize, and then there's the fact his mysterious gift giver forgot to sign their name on the accompanying card. Even detective Mouri Kogoro - also present, tonight - could crack this case.

That reminds him- he should toss the dried-up hydrangea into the trash already.)

But at the end of the day, Rei doesn't care for flowers or chocolates or cards. What he really wants is for Akai to suck it up and say the words himself. He knows it's a tall order; after all, it's not like he's apologized for any of the privacy violations - and other assorted crimes - he committed while hunting for Akai.

That was different, though.

Akai setting him up with Hiro was entirely pointless, utterly avoidable. If Akai is worth Rei's time, he'll acknowledge that and apologize properly.

At least, Rei would like to pretend his affections hinge on Akai's words.

Unfortunately, that isn't quite the truth any longer, probably hasn't been in a good long while. Because Akai, stupid, reckless idiot that he is, has wormed his way into Rei's heart. Even if he desperately wishes it weren't so.

He's tried, of course, to exorcise Shuuichi from it, several times in fact. But Akai is burrowed in too deep, nestled into Rei's weak spot; unless he wants to rip himself apart in the process, there's no getting rid of him that easily. And that's if Rei could even bring himself to want to do that. Which he doesn't.

They've grown too close, entwined with one another. Relying on each other.

And were it a matter of life and death, he'd go with Akai in a heartbeat.

(Considering its rabbit-quick palpitations in the FBI agent's proximity, that would be rather fast, these days.)

Right now, however, Akai's still projecting calm.

Not that he ever shows many signs of distress, generally too in control of himself. A useful trait, in their line of work - but somewhat inconvenient if one cares about this idiot. It's for the best, then, that Rei has become quite adept at reading even the smallest cues Akai lets slip through the crack. He's not impossible to read, especially up close.

(Close enough that his concealed gun presses into Rei's flank. His breath hitches at the realization.)

He takes a moment to fiddle with the folds of his suit jacket, to make sure it hides his own shoulder holster adequately. A feeble attempt to calm himself.

Akai's presence demands too much of his attention.

He's barely moving at all, even his breathing tightly controlled. Rei's sure if he looked back, he'd see the muscles of Akai's lovely neck pulled taut, his eyes sharp and unyielding. But given that he's chosen to stand in a way that would make it hard for him to draw his weapon, there's nothing to worry about - not yet, at least.

Knowing Akai, it's very possible he just doesn't like how many people have gathered here, tonight.

(A sentiment Rei shares, after too much time spent in the shadows.)

In the end, however, it's just a party. And one with such a high percentage of law enforcement attendants that it would be utterly stupid to try any funny business tonight.

(Rei tries to ignore that this would also make it an appealing target for anyone with a grudge against the police.)

He's not about to let Akai (or a hypothetical terrorist) ruin his career opportunities.

His answer, thus, remains firm.

"No."

Still, he can't help wondering what has Akai so wired. If there's something to worry about, he probably needs to know.

"What's wrong?" Rei mouths, barely a sound passing from his lips. He stares ahead to the podium, pretending to listen to the speech Kuroda's giving at the moment.

"Several people have been staring at you and me - including your subordinate, for the last twenty minutes. And I'm not supposed to cause trouble, tonight", Akai mumbles, too soft and too close.

If he keeps speaking like that, it's going to be trouble, alright.

Rei grits his teeth. Resists the urge to draw him in close. Akai can damn well protect himself, if need be.

"At least half the people in this room have read your dossier. I would be more surprised if they didn't stare at you, Silver Bullet."

He tries for dismissive, but the nickname flows from his lips too easily, too affectionately. Rei can't help it. His feelings bleed out of him, whenever he's not careful enough - a circumstance with historical prevalence, in Akai's presence.

Still, he'll humour Akai and assess the situation. Looks around, pretending to look for a waiter, a guise to survey the room.

He doesn't get far.

His gaze gets caught on Shuuichi, for what must be seconds at most, though they feel like an eternity. On the smile, soft and private and barely noticeable, the warmth mirrored in the creases around his eyes. He should be doing something else, but it's hard to look away, when Rei knows he caused this look, that the fondness is meant for him.

(It's the look usually reserved for Akai's family. The thought makes Rei nauseous.)

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before he does something very, very stupid.

Because Akai doesn't look like his dossier's picture, tonight. He looks even better.

Akai must have slept more, recently, to reduce the bags under his eyes. Someone, presumably Kudo Yukiko - because Rei refuses to believe Akai's managed it himself - has dressed him up appropriately for the gala, too - he's wearing a navy-blue suit over a cream turtleneck sweater. His hair has been slicked back; his curls forced into a short ponytail by a silver ribbon. And if Rei's not mistaken, Akai's even wearing a bit of eyeliner that defines his already sharp eyes in even starker lines.

He's stunning, like this. Anyone with a pair of working eyes would be drawn to him.

Like hell Rei's going to tell him that, though.

Instead, he will use a different outlet for the emotions that are threatening to boil over within - Kazami.

He finds his associate in the crowd easily enough, staring intently at the pair of them, just as Akai had described. Rei's learned from the best; despite the brilliant smile, the glare he gives his subordinate is positively murderous.

Kazami flushes, coughs into his fist, and finally has the decency to look away. Rei will need to ask later why his subordinate thought it a good idea to leave his manners at home when attending such a prestigious gathering.

By his side, he can feel Akai relax a bit, a warm breath released past his ear. It's all the thanks Rei knows he'll get for the sniper to squeeze his arm, once, before he disappears back into the crowd.

(Where Akai touched him, the warmth lingers.)

Rei goes to find himself that waiter. He needs a drink, or maybe two.

.

While he's sipping his champagne - one of the few drinks left without that certain bad aftertaste - several people are called to the stage to receive their accolades.

It stings to know neither himself nor Akai will be called there tonight, despite their contributions.

It makes sense; what they did does not belong into the light. If their deeds were exposed, the public would see just how ugly and dirty and bloodstained public safety's hands really are. Better to keep it hidden.

Because even their peers, so many of which are here tonight, those that should understand, often don't. Rei has seen the looks people give him. Some of his superiors have been away from field duty for too long.

(Have forgotten when the ends justify the means.)

He's made sure to document every crime he committed, to send the reports to the higher-ups on a regular basis. And yet they left him to his own devices, offered no support or advice when he reported extortion and murder, torture and theft and arson.

(Before Kazami became his contact, communications had been so spotty he'd laid awake some nights, wondering whether they'd just leave him to die alone if he needed extraction. Wash their hands off him.)

Now, for the first time in years, he'd been face to face with his superiors during the post-takedown interviews - though they would be better described as interrogations, really, questioning his motives and loyalties.

In their quest to understand what happened, they'd pried apart every last reason, every justification he gave for his actions, the legitimacy of every injury he'd sustained. After lying for his survival for so long, he'd been afraid, for a moment, to be truthful with them - but there could never be absolution for his crimes, if he kept them locked up in his mind. So he'd laid it all out for them.

Had watched them pale as he described cutting off a young woman's fingers to send them to her husband. Had heard them swallow at the illegal pornographic materials he'd found on the laptop of a prestigious prosecutor, used for blackmail.

(Had seen the fear in their eyes, quite clearly. They must have thought he was a monster.

And some days, Rei's sure that they are onto something. He wouldn't change a thing, but still his deeds keep him up at night.)

In the end, they found nothing to fault him for. Pardoned his crimes, even if they weren't pleased about it. Awarded him with the honours he was due - the medal he's wearing pinned to his chest today a symbol of his service to the country he loves so much.

(Part of him wonders, can't help it, really, whether they'd ripped him apart just as much if he didn't look like he was a foreigner in his own country.

The rejection burns, bile rising in his throat.)

Maybe Akai was right. They should've just left right at the start. Then he wouldn't have to listen to those who fought and lived, nor the remnants of those who fought and lost.

Why is he doing this to himself? It's only dredging up bad memories he's trying to leave behind.

For a moment, he considers finding Akai and ditching the gala right there and then. But wherever he ran off to, Rei can't find him while his resolve wavers.

With a sigh, he resigns himself to the long night ahead.

He empties his glass in time for Hiro to be summoned to the stage.

.

It's not a surprise to hear his best friend's name be called, they knew ahead of time, but it still drives home just how different their lives turned out, in the end.

Hiro is a killer just the same, after all, but by being removed from active duty for a few years that somehow become palatable. They've made him out to be a survivor, a hero - the poster child for the kind of brave young officers the PSB needs to take on the difficult missions.

(Young and enthusiastic, because without their fervour, the work would break them.)

Even though Rei tries, he can't help but envy Hiro's moment in the spotlight.

(They should stand up there, together. Them, and three others that lost their lives in the line of duty already. It was always supposed to be the five of them.)

Rei hates himself for it.

It's not like Hiro's basking in the limelight. His smile is strained, his words curt, as he's thanked for his service. Somehow his attitude is understood as professional, instead of rude - the benefits of his cool smile, Rei supposes. But even if his best friend can fool the audience, Rei knows Scotch when he sees him.

(It's a small consolation to see that Hiro, too, has been changed by what they've been through. Rei clings to the connection, painful as it is.)

It's over fairly quickly, thankfully.

Hiro brushes past his proud older brother's congratulations, and instead finds Rei, wordlessly grabs the drink saved for him.

.

Time crawls and drags. More people go up, give a little speech of their own, step back down again. Their faces blur together.

"Zero."

Hiro bumps his shoulder, gently reminding him of the present, his presence.

The doom and gloom permeating the room is poisonous. Here Rei is, being envious of his best friend, when it's a miracle he's standing there at all. How stupid. Things could've gone bad so easily, but they made it through alive, and that's worth something.

He leans back against Hiro's shoulder, focuses on his best friend's breathing.

.

When the ceremony is finished, it's time to do what Rei's come for - socialize, improve his standing. He's doing what he can in the office, but to limited effect, since he still spends a lot of time on field investigations. His identity might no longer be a national secret, but he's missed afterwork beers a few times too many. His colleagues treat him as other, despite his best efforts.

He'll just need to show them that he's human, too.

(Even if he can't show his true self.)

Rei could probably go at it alone, but he's used to two-person jobs - briefly, he wonders which tropical island Vermouth is enjoying her pardon on, is glad she hasn't sent a postcard - and Hiro's agreed to be his back-up. Probably for the best, considering how the night went, thus far.

If he wasn't a decently capable sniper, Hiro would have made a good intelligence officer for the organisation as well.

The amount of intel they gathered because calm and collected Scotch didn't take sides, knew to listen and offer insightful advice, was a little insane. The organisation never expected his betrayal, until it was too late (and even then, Rei vividly recalls Chianti pissing off Gin when she insisted that surely Scotch wasn't a rat - one of the few sources of amusement, in those trying times). Charismatic enough to get even the ice-cold grim reaper to thaw - that's his best friend.

And some of the familiarity they're trying to reclaim is still there, because they slip into their masks effortlessly, side by side. Fall into their old patterns.

Between Scotch's dry wit, and Amuro's dazzling charm, very few people manage to avoid the conversational vortex that sucks them in, spits them out with an improved opinion of agents Furuya and Morofushi.

A compliment about an officer's subtle earrings here, 'heartfelt' congratulations for the graduation of a colleague's daughter from a prestigious university there - after years of depending on highly sensitive intel, it's laughable how easily these people can be won over with the information they volunteer on their social media profiles.

In the ebb and flow of conversations, Rei makes sure they don't stay past the small talk, lest they reach actually interesting or even controversial topics. Usually, this is fine - people are looking to celebrate, not form meaningful connections. But every single one of them wants to toast with him, and there's too many detectives around, so Rei actually takes a sip when they ask him to.

It's been a while since he drank that much, and he probably shouldn't have.

.

It starts out innocently enough. The young woman talking to their latest mark seems vaguely familiar, though Rei can't quite place her.

They chat, for a while, about nothing of importance, when finally, they reach the dreaded stage of meaningful conversation. They should dip, but her enthusiasm is helplessly charming, provide an easy in with their target. Rei can't help but want to indulge her, nudging Hiro to stay a little longer. It's nice when others do his job for them.

"It makes me so happy, to see the case that took my partner finally laid to rest. Were you part of the final operation?"

Of course, the question isn't unexpected. Rei's prepared a variety of different answers for why he's here, depending on who's asking. Unfortunately, he makes the mistake of really, truly, looking at the woman.

He freezes, his mind caught on all the things he can't ever tell her.

Because Rei's never seen her in person before, but he knows her. Showed shots of her picking up their kids to her husband, in a last-ditch effort to finally get him to break. The man hadn't.

Instead, he had quietly and resolutely told Rei he'd rather die, now, than drag his family into it.

Bourbon had given him what he'd asked for.

All he sees is the concrete cellar, monochrome but for the blood splattering on the floor and Bourbon's gloves, white fabric stained crimson. The smell of iron and gunpowder rises from the cold, hard, gun in his hand.

He blinks.

Thankfully, Hiro notices his stupor and steals the woman's attention away to cover for him, but they cut the conversation short after that, regardless.

Rei hurriedly removes his gloves, tosses them into the trash on their way out.

.

"What was that?" Hiro asks, when they're out of earshot of the woman, heading to one of the lesser-used employee bathrooms. His best friend is projecting calm, but the last syllable came out too sharp - he's clearly concerned.

"It's nothing to worry about."

Hiro, unfortunately, has never been particularly inclined to believe Rei when he lies straight to his face.

"You blanked out for half a minute and started shaking."

Okay, so, Rei doesn't remember that part, but he was a little preoccupied at the time.

"She caught me unaware. It won't happen again."

His best friend checks the bathroom stalls to make sure they're empty, puts a 'cleaning in progress' from the supply cabinet on the door. Pats the spot next to himself on the counter, and gives Rei a long look.

"Zero..."

Urgh.

Hiro's voice is soft and gentle, as if speaking to a spooked animal, and that really is the worst. Rei could resist anger and accusations, but genuine concern? Not a chance.

"Sometimes I get flashbacks. Short ones, but vivid. Started when you were gone. They haven't happened in a while, so I thought it was over."

It's an uncomfortable relief to finally tell someone, like removing a splinter from a wound - it still bleeds, but unless it's done, he can't ever heal. Rei would much rather not have divulged it, at least not right here and now, but his best friend is persistent - it's easier to just tell him what he wants to know, before he launches a full-on cross-examination. Besides, Rei's known for a while it needed to be addressed; he's lucky the episodes haven't happened in a situation that cost him dearly, thus far.

(And that Hiro was there to bail him out, tonight.)

"What kind of flashbacks?"

Rei winces and rubs his temple. Tries to shake off the memory.

"Usually harmless. Sometimes traumatic."

Hiro has entered the stage of damage assessment, and it's unlikely he'll stop before he's satisfied.

"Visual? Auditory?"

"All senses."

Hiro pinches the bridge of his nose.

"And this has been going on for years now?"

It's a rhetorical question, but at this point Rei might as well indulge him.

"Yes."

Hiro sighs.

Rei's just glad the dissection has stopped, momentarily.

"You should really talk about this with someone. A professional, preferably." That much is expected. Rei knows he should, hasn't done so for a very simple reason - it might get him disqualified from field duty. If he was ever constrained to a desk job, he would simply shrivel up and die.

He's sure the aversion is clearly visible on his face.

"I'll take that as a no. Have you tried talking to Akai?" That suggestion, at least, is novel, albeit utterly stupid.

"He has the emotional intelligence of a starfish, why should I bother?"

Rei knows that assessment is a little unfair, but even if Akai's not utterly hopeless, his inability to communicate what he actually means results in just about the same outcome.

(Not that Rei's any better, most days.)

Hiro smiles at him, too knowing. 'Because you like him, and there's a very short list of people that applies to', Rei can almost hear him say.

There would be no arguing with that, even if Rei sure as hell would try. Instead, Hiro finds a different way to casually knock the breath from his lungs.

"Give him a chance. He might understand."

.

They rest up for a couple minutes, grab a breath of fresh air, and then return into the fray.

It's probably no use to try and bedazzle more people; Rei's tired, woozy, and he's all but exhausted the list of officers that are likely to influence the office climate. Still, there's one last thing he should be doing tonight, to improve his image.

Not his favourite part of the night, and he really can't afford to jinx it by asking if things could go any worse.

As it is an international gathering, there's a section of the facility sectioned off with a live band, providing an improvised dance floor. Amuro, a 'proper gentleman', should let himself be seen on it. There's always a surplus of women who wish to dance on these occasions, and indulging a few is an easy way to earn good will.

Still, he'd really rather not.

.

His apprehension isn't for lack of competence.

Years ago, in an unlikely team-up, Rye and Vermouth taught him the basics of ballroom dancing for a mission (the fact the sniper knew how to do that really should've been an indication he wasn't as American as he had claimed). Their lessons had been more enjoyable than Rei had anticipated - mostly because he got to step on Rye's toes whenever he felt like it. It was quite satisfying to feel the sniper tense in his arms, trying not to flinch.

(And more pleasurable than he cared to admit, at the time, to get to hold Rye, pressed close, taut but compliant, moving only at Rei's behest. Their clothes soaked through with sweat-)

Rei slams the lid on that memory before it starts burning. They really like to cling to him today, huh.

In the end, Rei picked up dancing without much issue. Would even say he enjoys it, sometimes.

No, the problem is simply that it feels wrong to let someone into his personal space.

Rei's a very in-your-face kind of fighter, but he likes to controls the ebb and flow of the exchange through aggression. He doesn't stay close to give his opponent an opportunity to get back at him.

Years undercover have taught him that while more than an arm's length of distance doesn't guarantee his safety, at the very least it gives him time to react. To willingly allow someone to be close to him is utter insanity, and uncomfortably intimate in a way he shouldn't ever be, with strangers.

Furthermore, dancing will mean splitting up from Hiro (unless they want to cause a scandal, and that's not the kind of publicity they want to generate tonight). Rei's already slipped up once tonight, would rather like to avoid a repeat performance.

Even if he wanted to, though, Hiro wouldn't be available. Because Akai has noticed them approach the dancefloor.

Rei's caught only glimpses of him throughout the evening, hiding in the shadows and scaring people off with a glare so grim it justified the reaper nickname all on its own.

But that darkness falls from his face as he's making his way over to the pair of them, eyes bright in the dimly lit area. It's like seeing the sun rise from behind the clouds, and Rei's definitely not staring at him, ignoring whatever Hiro just said.

For a moment, Rei gives himself over to the delusion that Akai is coming over, looking all eager like that, to ask him for a dance. Rei would have to decline, of course, because of they aren't alone, but still. It would be nice to be asked, to be wanted, by Akai, for real this time.

(When Akai doesn't bother with any of the women that give him longing looks.)

The closer the FBI agents gets, though, the more Rei feels like an idiot.

Because Akai's grin means trouble, and it's not reassuring in the least that it's directed at Hiro.

(Rei tries to push down the stupid spike of jealousy; he's very much aware, after all, that Akai's not interested in his best friend. He's only partially successful, but Amuro's smile withstands his inner turmoil.)

"Agent Morofushi, would you care to join me for a glass of scotch?"

That can't be good. The bar doesn't serve hard liquor.

By his side, Hiro straightens, picking up the very same threat to public safety. His best friend addresses the arising problem the way he does best, with a smile. Whatever Akai is up to needs to be contained, or at least supervised, as they're both well aware.

"Of course, agent Akai. If you'll excuse me, Furuya, I'll be right back."

.

"Is now a bad time, agent Furuya?"

At this point, he'll take anyone other than the cadet that seems like she's barely more than half his age, fluttering her fake eyelashes coquettishly. Even if he was interested in women - and if there wasn't already someone holding his heart hostage - her high-pitched voice, needily whining for his attention, couldn't be further from his type.

"Pardon me, miss." He doesn't even remember the girl's name, couldn't care less, and turns to look at his saviour. Barely manages to keep his poker face in time to not falter under a steely stare. "I promised officer Satou a dance earlier."

When it rains, it pours.

Still, she extends a hand to him, so, as Rye taught him so graciously several years back, he accepts and leads her to the floor, in time for a slow waltz to begin. Officer Satou may appear brash, but when dancing, her confidence is an asset. She follows his movements without much issue.

"You're a difficult man to get a hold of, agent Furuya."

She just has to rub it in every time she sees him, to show that she had the right hunch all along. Annoying, but respectable. If she wasn't happily engaged to a detective of the homicide unit, he would have tried to recruit her already.

"I'm quite busy, as I'm sure you understand."

She nods, briskly, swaying through the sea of bodies around them. At least with the slow tempo of the dance, they're unlikely to waltz straight into someone - or, more likely, have someone waltz up to them.

"Aren't we always?"

Her rhetorical question doesn't need an answer, but he replies in kind, weaving around a couple to turn a corner.

"You still owe me that talk - don't think I've forgotten your promise."

Rei hasn't. He has, however been conveniently too occupied to think about trying to schedule it. Even if he can bring Hiro for back-up, it's sure to rip open old wounds. He's not looking forward to it.

(But Matsuda's and Date's friends deserve better, from him. He hasn't even asked Hiro, because that would make it official. He should. He will.)

He nods.

"Relax. I know now is neither the time nor the place to discuss it, so don't worry about it, for tonight."

They effortlessly avoid collision with a pair of drunken dancers, swaying out of tune and out of lane. Rei doesn't let go of a relieved breath, but it's a damn near thing.

"If you say so, then I shan't."

She smiles, past him.

"Good. Instead, you will give me your address, so I can send you a wedding invitation. Takagi and myself are getting married in autumn."

Rei stiffens, loses his rhythm. Why would they want him there? It makes no sense. He should decline.

Amuro smiles, because that's the appropriate reaction to such an event, right? "I appreciate the thought-"

She interrupts him, drags him out of the way of a tumbling dancer.

"Don't you dare think for even a second about rejecting this offer. You owe me, and we owe you. You come, and we'll call it even. Don't make me go through your superiors - I will, if I have to."

Her face hardens.

"Besides, the kids will be there. They've been asking about you."

Just because Rei knows she's guilt-tripping him, doesn't mean it's not working.

She doesn't have to specify which kids - there's only one group of elementary school students that runs into the pair of homicide detectives often enough to be invited to their wedding. Really, them being there should be an argument against agreeing to come - the kids only ever knew him as Amuro, and, statistically speaking, people don't tend to like Furuya Rei much when they've met one of his disguises first.

He's intimately familiar with how it feels to lose a friend, though. Elena's disappearance still hurts, some nights, and he wouldn't wish that pain upon anyone else.

And while they are certainly a lot to handle, and a little annoying at times, it was kind of nice to spend time with the detective boys. Unlike his regular life, their cases were mostly harmless and quick to solve, and hey, that one time he even got to punch an ass.

A welcome break.

Rei finds himself smiling without really meaning to. Is horrified and delighted at once to find it's genuine.

The waltz has ended, and officer Satou looks at him expectantly. It's not like she's given him much of a choice, but he still waits a moment, considers his options.

Does he want to anger Satou Miwako? There's probably smarter uses of his time.

Though he doesn't feel like he owes her, she's raised a good point. Maybe it would even be nice. Weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions, right? He needs more of those in life. Maybe he gets to be selfish for once, accept a good thing.

It breaks something within him, to accept without putting up much of a fight.

(But it's too nice, this feeling of being wanted somewhere.)

"I will let you know where to drop the letter off."

He might have surrendered to her, but he's not giving up his home adress. Doesn't want her to be able to just show up, unannounced.

She smiles at him, like the cat that caught the mouse, even though he's only agreed to receive the invitation, not to show up.

He'll try, though.

"Good. Feel free to bring a plus one."

.

Rei doesn't see Hiro and Akai for about an hour.

The longer they're gone, the more restless he gets - the last time he only heard Akai's grin, and then the guy showed up with a rocket launcher to shoot down a submarine. It's a show of confidence and bad ideas and he's way too tired to deal with the fallout at this hour.

Rei's on his fourth glass of champagne, his feet hurt from running around all evening and then dancing for an hour, he's sweaty, the air's too stale-

Sudden cold drenches him, gives him barely enough time to brace himself before Mouri Kogoro, who just spilled his wine all over his dress shirt, crashes into Rei.

Maybe he's had a few too many of his own; because his first instinct is to reach for his gun and get the guy to back off, then demand damages for Bourbon's ruined suit.

(Bourbon doesn't exist anymore, never existed in the first place.)

A hand wraps around his wrist, presses it down over his heart, stopping Rei from completing the draw just in time. He struggles against it for a moment, then shoots a dirty look over his shoulder. Of course it's Akai who's holding him down, steadfast as ever.

Rei still tries to resist, for the sake of it.

Once, twice.

Nothing.

Akai's not budging an inch.

(A cold shiver runs down Rei's spine, quickly followed by a hot flush of arousal. Damn Akai, and his everything.)

"Causing trouble without me?" Akai's infuriating smirk is way too close, and definitely not helping to calm down the situation.

At least it's distracting.

Rei can think of at least six different methods to wipe that stupid smile off Akai's face, including, but not limited to, breaking his nose. Doesn't need his hands for that - he could just headbutt him, no problem.

Getting his head close to Akai's also appears in some of the other ideas. Most concerningly of which: he would really like to kiss the smile away.

His heart beats quicker, trapped as he is by Akai, is trying to free itself from Rei's chest and reunite with the one who holds it in his grasp.

(Can Akai feel his pulse? Can he tell what it means?)

Shit. Definitely too much alcohol.

People are staring at them - too many officers keenly attuned to the bloodlust that filled the small space between the four of them for a moment. Hiro appears from wherever he was hiding to pry Mouri off Rei, hold him steady.

Akai tugs his wrist down, insistently. Lets go disappointingly quickly, once Rei relaxes the grip on his weapon.

(Instead of disappearing, Akai's warmth seeps into Rei's heart, burns him from within.)

He keeps his mouth shut. There's too many stupid things he could say right now that would ruin all his efforts of the night.

Instead of his gun, Rei draws a handkerchief, uses it to dab at the wine stain rather ineffectively. That shirt is thoroughly ruined. Well. Maybe their cleaner can salvage it.

"Detective Mouri, are you alright?"

The high-pitched voice promises an earlier onset of the headache Rei's sure to receive come tomorrow morning. Great. Who let officer Yamamura attend this gathering?

"I am perfectly fine, thank you very much", is what Rei can make out from Mouri's slurred speech (and even that only because Rei spent way more time than he would have liked around the miserable creature that is the detective).

"I think you've had quite enough, sir. Why don't you head home?" While he says it to Mouri, it's clear from the sharp look Hiro gives Rei that it's mostly addressed to him.

"We'll settle this tomorrow." Rei manages to tone his glare down to frigid instead of murderous, and turns on his heel.

He's not willing to deal with any more of this nonsense, tonight.

.

"Do you need a change of clothes?" Akai asks, keeping pace with Rei without issue. Long-legged bastard.

Rei, of course, has planned for this eventuality, but he really can't be bothered with dressing up again for an encore of that performance. No, it's time to go home and rest. He's earned it. Though...

"Yours?"

Akai looks at him, deadpan. "No. The ones I stole from Kuroda, obviously."

Rei gives him a dirty look. "You think you're so funny, huh?"

They make their way to the garage downstairs, on foot.

"Positively hilarious, I've been assured."

"Whoever told you that, you'll want to get your money back from them."

Akai laughs quietly while he rummages through the trunk of his obnoxious red mustang. It's a lot fuller than Rei remembers, brown boxes of some kind stacked in it that he doesn't remember seeing before.

He'll need to ask Akai about them later, but for now, he has other priorities.

The stain is cold and wet and irritating. He really wants to get out of the soiled clothes. Hm. The trunk lid should offer enough protection from the cameras...

Rei starts stripping.

And if he's taking his sweet time, putting on a little show, well. Akai's the one who ran around all evening looking like he wanted to be eaten alive. It's only fair Rei pay him back in kind.

It's not like they haven't seen each other half-naked a dozen times before.

It's the cold night air that causes goosebumps to form on his skin. Not Akai looking at him more hungrily than that one time they shared Rei's bento.

He expects to have his change of clothes handed to him by the time he's done, but since that's not the case, he extends a hand. As flattering as it is to catch Akai staring, green eyes burning bright in the night, Rei's still freezing.

"I'm cold, Akai."

Taking his cue, Akai hands his clothes over.

"And clearly inebriated."

Rei slips into the too-large tank top, doesn't bother with the shirt. Opts instead for the cozy sweater. Much better. He hugs the fabric to his chest.

"Tipsy, at most."

Akai gives him a long-suffering look. What's with people seeing through him, today?

"Rei. Do you mind if I drive you back?"

Akai's eyes burn with undisclosed emotions. At least Rei hopes he's not looking too deep into it, again. But Shuuichi seems painfully sincere, sombre, asking for permission - when really, it should be Rei asking for a ride, should thank him for offering.

The house of cards stacked against him all evening crumbles under the weight of Akai's look. God. Rei just wants to rest, nestled into the sniper's side, while he looks at Rei like that. Talks, as if he matters. Holds him tight.

Akai gets up, takes a step closer.

"You know the way, don't you?"

It should be casual, carelessly callous, but it comes out too soft, instead. An admission of familiarity. He's given Akai the keys to where he's most vulnerable, because he trusts Akai won't abuse that privilege.

"Yes."

The word is small and breathless between them. So simple, and yet.

Rei lets the shiver run its course through him, this time. It's too late to pretend he isn't affected. Even if he can't bring himself to say the words, maybe Akai will understand if Rei just stops suppressing what he feels.

Akai closes the gap between them, wraps his arms around him. Rubs his back, pressure gentle through the knit fabric. How does he still think Rei's cold, when he's been set on fire? Idiot.

He melts into the embrace, warmth seeping through the suit's thin fabric. Takes a deep breath of the smoke and sweat and sandalwood that make up Akai's scents, today. Holds him too tight, creasing the suit.

Neither of them cares.

"Take me home, Akai."

.

Rei drifts in and out of consciousness on the way back, Akai's steady driving lulling him to sleep. He doesn't bother trying to resist his body's demands.

.

A cool breeze stirs him awake, as Akai opens the window and slides his keycard for the underground parking lot across the scanner.

He parks in Rei's space, and is left waiting.

And waiting.

Cozy as he is, covered by Akai's suit jacket for further insulation, Rei's not particularly inclined to move. At the prospect of getting out of the car and climbing three flights of stairs, a groan escapes him.

Akai's observing him, critically.

"Will you be alright by yourself?"

If he's being honest, Rei's doesn't feel all that drunk. He should grab a snack before bed and a painkiller in the morning, then he'll be good.

"Most likely, yes."

And that's it, isn't it? Akai's fulfilled his duty, and now he'll be off to his own home. The thought leaves Rei cold.

"What about you?" he finds himself asking, doesn't want Akai to go just yet. Besides, he's genuinely concerned; Akai's been taut as a wire most of the evening.

The FBI agent sighs, deep and long-winded. Tension bleeds out of him with every breath.

"Too many people. But I'll be fine."

He doesn't look fine. Looking into his eyes from up close, Rei sees, surprise surprise, how tired Akai looks. It's been a long day, an even longer night, and it's probably only his stubbornness that keeps him from falling asleep in the car.

He shouldn't have driven Rei around, like this. Should've headed home, himself. This is Rei's fault, and he doesn't like owing self-sacrificial idiots anything.

There's a very simple way to pay Akai back for his kindness.

(A very selfish way.)

It's nothing unusual. They've done this a dozen times over, locked up together, so Rei might as well ask.

Rests his hand tentatively over Akai's, still on the gear stick, to test the waters. He counts it as a win when the agent doesn't flinch, only looks away.

"Akai. Would you like to stay the night?"

(Rei knows how bad Akai's insomnia gets on a good day. And if today's interactions have rattled him, he can hazard a guess as to how bad off Akai will be.)

It's only payback. Nothing more.

His heart beats quicker in objection.

Akai moves his hand under Rei's, and for a split second, he fears he's pushed the other too far.

Relief floods him, when the other agent simply turns his hand around, laces their fingers together. Akai's grip would be enough to break his bones, if he tried; but he's just holding him, firm and steady.

Akai sighs softly in the space between them. Finally, he looks at Rei again. There's fear in Akai's eyes, fear and hunger and restlessness and the emotions are switching up faster than Rei can read them.

They settle, eventually, on longing. Rei shivers under their intensity.

"Yes."

A smile blossoms on his face, but he's seen Akai's idiocy from up close one too many times to trust it just yet.

"Will you?"

Just because he wants something, doesn't mean Akai will permit himself to follow that impulse, self-sacrificial bastard that he is.

(It takes one to know one.)

"Are you requesting I stay?"

Rei doesn't even pretend to consider his options. This is an opening, and while it's unclear whether Akai feels exactly the same way, the comfort they feel in each other's presence is very real. It will have to be enough, for now.

His answer comes a little too quickly, too eagerly.

"If you promise to shower."

Akai squeezes his hand.

.

Before he shoos the agent into the bathroom ("You're my guest, you're showering first."), Rei tugs at the ribbon, releasing Akai's curls. He ruffles his stupidly gelled-back hair, just on this side of roughly. There. That's much better. He wasn't quite looking like himself, before.

"Don't forget to wash your hair, too."

.

[03:57] Morofushi Hiromitsu: He got you home safe?

[04:04] Furuya Rei: Yes.

[04:04] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Let me guess. He's still there?

[04:06] Furuya Rei: ...yes.

[04:06] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Good luck.

[04:06] Furuya Rei: It's not like that.

[04:07] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Sure.

[04:10] Furuya Rei: You get home safe, too.

[04:11] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Eh, I'm still catching up with Micchan.

[04:17] Morofushi Hiromitsu: This bar is kinda seedy though, if I disappear, start your search here.

[Morofushi Hiromitsu has shared his location.]

.

He could get used to seeing Akai's shoes, neatly set side by side with his own.

Akai's jacket, draped over the kitchen chair.

The smell of smoke, lingering in his flat.

Akai, undressing in his bathroom.

Akai, waiting in his bed.

Akai, freshly showered, flushed and slightly damp, still-

Shit.

.

By the time he emerges from the shower, the edge taken off a little, Rei has managed to put himself back together, somewhat.

The fresh clothing helps. At least he's physically presentable. Mentally...

They've done this before. There's no need to be nervous.

Except there's a shift that makes all the difference. Before, there was always plausible deniability. One of them half-asleep, injured, otherwise unwell. Fine, Rei's a little drunk, but Akai came here of his own, free will.

God. Rei hopes Akai wants this, too, isn't just going along with his selfish desires.

His stupid heart panics, beating a staccato rhythm. If this goes on, he'll need to see a physician. Or maybe that therapist Hiro suggested.

Damnit. He's an adult and in control of his impulses. He can share a bed with Akai. It will be fine. They'll lay side by side, like responsible adults. He didn't buy the double bed with Akai in mind, but there's enough space for the two of them. They won't even need to touch.

He wants to, though. Badly. Shuuichi's so warm, so lovely to hold. If only Rei had never touched him. He can't ever go back to not knowing the smoothness of Akai's skin, the softness of his hair.

Shit. He's getting too worked up.

Rei grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen, and heads over to the bedroom.

(There's too much space for just himself. It's nice that he's not alone, tonight.)

He pushes down the bedroom door handle with his elbow, balancing the glasses, tries to be quiet. It's unlikely, but he was gone for quite a while, and if by some miracle Akai's already asleep, he wouldn't want to wake him.

The bed is empty.

Panic spears through Rei, freezes him in the doorway. Did Akai hear him in the shower after all? He wasn't that loud, right-

With a creak, the balcony door opens, and Akai pads back in, the smell of smoke intensifying. Ah. He was being mindful of Rei's house rules.

So considerate it makes his heart hurt.

The poor thing is working overtime as it is. It's highly unfair that with dishevelled hair and wearing an oversized pyjama, Akai looks so overwhelmingly cute. Rei wants to drag him into bed and eat him alive.

Damnit.

"Couldn't sleep", is all Akai says, stifling a yawn.

Rei sets the glasses down on the bedside table.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Akai gives him a dark look, shakes his head.

"Not tonight."

Alright. It's not like Rei can't relate, so he drops the matter. For some of the things they've done, they can only ever distract themselves. Rei can help him relax, if he's willing to play.

He steps up to Akai, raising his hands as if to hug him -

"Off to bed with you."

- and shoves him roughly, sending the FBI agent tumbling.

Not one to go down without a fight, Akai grabs his arm as he falls. They land in a tangle of limbs on the bed, Akai managing to roll to the side and try to get on top of him.

Rei can't have that, so he struggles against him. pushes his arm between them, hoists his hip up, and reverses the pin, straddling Akai.

Shit.

Akai's so beautiful beneath him, hair fanning out, eyes bright, breathing elevated from the brief altercation. Wide awake and smiling.

Licking his lips, eager to continue.

Rei could-

He wants to-

Gods help him.

This is too fast. It was just supposed to be a distraction.

He can feel Akai stir against him.

Rei freezes. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

(At least he doesn't have to question anymore whether the attraction is mutual. Isn't that great.)

Akai takes the responsibility out of his hands.

Weaves a hand into Rei's hair, drags him down.

Looks for permission in his eyes.

And then, Akai kisses him.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[awanderingdeal]

Anyway, I haven't written anything in forever but i'm constantly thinking about my coffee shop au and I'm just on the bus and dreamed up this cute little scene.

"That's crazy," Logan hummed, hoping the response was appropriate. The rich caramelly notes wafting from in front of him had been distracting him for quite a while.

They weren't iced yet - Leo said they needed to cool a little longer - but maybe he could try one.

"Hands off, 24601," Leo admonished, slapping away Logan's hand before he could wrap his fingers around the cinnamon roll.

"That hurt!" Logan whined, rubbing at his hand. "Quick reflexes dude."

"Almost a NHL goalie, remember," Leo shrugged, sliding a plate across the island. Logan saw the little furrow in Leo's brow despite the nochelence. "Here, let me ice them and then you can give me your honest opinion."

"So, does that make you Javert," Logan said. Leo looked up from his piping bag. "You know...24601?"

"Ohhh," Leo laughed. "Not just a pretty face."

Logan felt his cheeks warm. He cleared his throat. "Finn had a Les Mis phase. Watched it at least 100 in Sophomore year. Even dragged me to see a live performance that summer."

"Yeah, and you didn't enjoy that at all?"

"Not one bit," Logan snorted a laugh. The memory of tracking his fingers through Finn's hair as he sobbed every. single. time. would be ingrained in Logan's brain forever, but he didn't need to tell Leo that. Logan gave a small grateful smile as Leo set a freshly iced cinnamon roll on the plate, gesturing for him to try. He wasted no time obliging. "This though, this is sublime," he said.

[upthehillnsfw]

Commission for the Hazelnoot server on Discord!

Based on Sweater Weather by lumosinlove🏒

Click for full version / Alternative

[popfizzles]

been rotating more human au stuff in my brain... today, my boys <3 tomorrow? maybe the same.

wonder what they're talking about !

[screwpinecaprice]

Drink's on me.

[honeybrixo]

Good morning ☀️

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

June Part VII

~

So so grateful for all of you who love this story even when I take forever to post!! Happy holidays to all <3 <3

~

No, there's nothin' you can

send me, my own true

love

There's nothin' I'm wishin'

To be ownin'

Just to carry yourself

Back to me unspoiled

From across that

Lonesome ocean

~

Remus ran down the cottage’s porch steps and threw his arms around Lily. It was easy to lose service out at the lake, and he’d last talked to her at the coffee shop he’d always stopped at halfway through the drive from Gryffindor. He had a beloved photograph of Sirius and Julian sitting at an outside table there, the first time Sirius had come to the lake. He’d tried his best to specifically explain the forks and bends in the roads to Lily, but it was still a relief to see them getting out of their car.

“You made it,” Remus said into her shoulder.

“Sure did. Wow. This is the cutest.” Lily gave Remus one more squeeze before pulling back. She pushed her sunglasses into her hair and smiled up at the cabin. “J, look.”

“Hold on, you know this buckle hates me.”

Remus squinted against the sun to see James with his entire upper body in the backseat of the car. When he emerged, he was red-faced and holding Harry—who was already squirming towards Sirius. The slight delay of James closing the car door was even too much for him. Harry burst into tears, then abruptly stopped as Sirius jogged down the porch steps and scooped him away from James. Remus couldn’t make out what Sirius said to him, but he could read the broad smile on his face just fine.

“Oh, it is cute, for sure,” James said. He had his hands on his hips, and maybe a few cheerios in his hair, as he looked over the cottage, then Sirius. “Yeah, hi, good to see you, too, friend.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius said appeasingly, but held a hand out for James to clap and bring their shoulders together. “How was the drive?”

“Very pretty.” James shaded his eyes to look down the stone pathway that offered a glimmering sliver of the lake. He whistled. “That looks inviting.”

Lily brought Remus’ attention back to her with a squeeze to his hands. “How are you, Lupin? Feeling almost married?”

“More almost each day.” Remus wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come in, we’ve got lunch.”

Maybe Remus shouldn’t have been surprised when Julian and Harry took to each other immediately. Harry couldn’t do much, but he could giggle at whatever Julian was doing and take the small pieces of food Julian held out to him. He could sit in the waves while Julian safe-guarded him against any bigger swells caused by a passing boat. If his mom squeezed his hand when she caught Remus watching them one day with his sunglasses firmly hiding his damp eyes, well, that was fine.

James and Sirius took to each other, too, even after just a short time apart. There was lots of football and jumping off the raft to catch flying passes. Remus didn’t mind. With his parents reading in the shade of the lake-facing porch up above and Julian entertaining Harry a few paces away, he basically had Lily to himself, which almost never happened.

“This is heaven,” she said. “Like, it’s more heaven than a tropical resort or something. I mean, the house is right there, it’s way cooler and less humid than some island, and I have you to make me a drink.”

Remus smiled. “I’m glad you like it here.”

“Would I ever have seen this place if you hadn’t started playing?”

“You? Yeah, if you wanted. Everyone else? Probably not if I never got with Sirius.”

She nodded slowly, turning the ice cubes that clinked against her cup. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, and she had a large, floppy hat shading her face. Remus reached forward and lifted the brim with two fingers.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “I was just thinking about…I don’t know. James has been down about losing the season like this. And maybe—” Lily flipped the brim up and turned to him. Her green eyes were the clear color of the lake. “Okay, I forgot after winning the Cup last year about how every summer’s beginning was like…It’s like they forget they’re good at their jobs. And that it’s going to be okay. And this year…It’s just back. James has been so hard on himself.” She sighed. “And probably losing Logan made it even harder, but he’s been down.” She looked back out at the water. Slowly, a smile crossed her face. “I don’t know. I’m rambling. But look at those lunatics out there. It’s just nice to see him smile.”

Remus nodded. Sirius and James were treading water near the raft. Their voices carried across the water, though he couldn’t make out their words. He didn’t need to. James made Sirius laughed so hard that his head disappeared under the water for a second before he surfaced again, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes.

“Ugh, the cutest,” Lily said.

Remus watched Sirius splutter and toss the football at James’ head. “Hm, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah, but I meant those two.” Lily held up her phone towards Julian and Harry. “Boys! Over here!”

“How do you want us?” James shouted over the water. He already had his arm around Sirius’ shoulders, grinning and ready for a photo.

“Not you,” Lily said, waving Sirius and James off.

“No, no,” Remus laughed and reached for his own phone. “Stay like that.”

Julian pointed at Lily so Harry would look, then tickled him into another grin. James wrapped both of his arms around Sirius and pulled like he was trying to lift him up, startling Sirius into a laughing one in his own.

The sight tightened Remus’ throat. He almost forgot to take the picture as he stared over the edge of his sunglasses instead.

“Did you do it?” Sirius called, then pushed James down again into the water.

Remus nodded, flashing a thumbs up.

“Anyway,” Lily sighed. “When does Logan play? James with his little hockey-pout face wants to watch.”

“Rangers are up against the Lightning tonight,” Remus said. “And yeah. I don’t think Sirius has fully realized Tremz isn’t a Lion anymore. I mean, really. Like, even less realization than Finn and Leo.”

“Yeah, those two cubs seem to be doing better.”

“Mhm,” Remus said. “I hope so.”

“Mais, non, non—” A shout of laughter came from the water, and a fast flow of French that got garbled as Sirius did a cannonball off the raft and caught the football. Remus didn’t know what the rules of their game were, but James, floating nearby, wiped the water from his eyes and looked devastated.

Remus leaned forward, digging his cup into the sand. Sirius surfaced again with the football held high. He shook his soaking hair out of his face, threw his head back, and whooped. It traveled to them over the waves, through the sound of sifting sand and Harry’s babbling. Sirius dunked his head again, and his dark hair plastered back from his face. The smile was still in place. Remus knew all about the down of a poorly ended season. In college, getting knocked out early and having to go to classes with that weight on his chest had felt like hell for the first two weeks. And Sirius Black didn’t do just down. He did devastated and punishing. He did end of the world and hard work and nextyearnextyearnextyear.

But there he was. In Remus’ lake, laughing like—

“Re?”

“Yeah,” Remus whispered. He tore his eyes away, looking at her. “Sorry, sorry, yeah?”

Lily had her hat flipped back again. He was watching him carefully with a small smile on her face.

“Sorry I didn’t hear what you said,” Remus said. “I…”

“That’s all right.” Lily leaned forward, too, checking on Harry once when he let out a loud shriek, before turning back to him. “What’s up?”

“He doesn’t always…” Remus passed his fingers over his mouth, over a smile. “It’s kind of like what you said about James. About summer. But it’s also the opposite. Sirius…He doesn’t always laugh like that.”

If there was anything Remus knew, it was Sirius Black’s face. He knew it guarded, and he knew it open.

“Like a little kid’s laugh,” Remus said softly.

“Pretty deep for a little kid.”

Remus grinned at her. “No, like—”

Lily put a soft hand on his arm. “I’m joking, Re. You’re right.” She squeezed his fingers and let go. “It is. It is nice. I mean…You were there. Before.” She shut one eye against the sun. “Did you love him then?”

“Love? No. Want? Maybe. Mostly I just…I don’t know why because he was fucking mean to me…” He smiled. “But I—no, really. You were there. He was so stubborn. Honest to God, I don’t think he trusted me until his ankle.”

“He’s Sirius Black,” Lily said. “I don’t think he was raised to be trusting.”

“That’s why I like hearing that laugh,” Remus said. “Fuck, Lils, I love that laugh.”

The boys were swimming in now. Julian had Harry in his lap and was waving at them.

“Good thing you’re getting that laugh for life, then.” Lily held up her drink. “To good laughs for a good life.”

Remus picked up his own drink. “Oh yeah, you’ve got one of your own.” He clinked his glass to Lily’s, sand sprinkling between them. “To good laughs for a good life.”

Lily flipped her hat back down. “Okay, okay, before we cry, let’s watch their abs appear from the water.”

“Oh, for sure.”

~

Maybe it was a slight miscalculation on Finn and Leo’s part to walk Logan to Madison Square Garden for his third game against the Lightning, but if there was anything that was worth getting a few good-natured heckles for losing their series, it was watching the Rangers fans waiting at the players’ entrance absolutely fawn over Logan.

Really, for Finn, it was watching fans fawn over Logan while Logan held on tightly to Leo’s hand. It was holding Logan’s bag for him while he…signed a man’s body.

“You really want me to sign…” Logan was staring apprehensively at a shoulder a man was offering him. “For a tattoo?”

“Don’t mess up,” Leo said, then grinned at Logan’s pleading eyes. “Just saying.”

“yeah, yeah,” the man said, grinning. “Just your signature and number. Please. Thank you.”

“Aha,” Finn said, holding up a finger. “Which number?”

“Oh, ten,” the man said hurriedly. “Please. I’m a firm believer that you’ll be back to ten some day.”

Logan looked at Finn.

“Would you look at that,” Finn said.

Smiling, Logan took a breath and uncapped the Sharpie. “D’accord.”

He signed his name and number more slowly than he usually would have, tongue peaking out in concentration. 

“Tongue, tongue,” Finn whispered, nudging his elbow into Leo’s side.

“Shh…” Leo was trying hard not to smile.

Logan had had to let go of Leo’s hand to hold the man steady, and Leo wandered closer to Finn, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Others were taking videos, and Finn felt some of the cameras train on them once Logan had finished signing. He flicked his sunglasses down over his eyes, half because he knew he needed to take it easy on direct sunlight for a while yet, and half so he could just stare at Logan all he wanted while he slipped his arm around Leo’s waist.

“Okay?” Leo whispered back, settling his hand over Finn’s.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Just taking it easy.”

“There you go.” Logan sucked air through his teeth, surveying his work, then laughed and capped the pen.

“Thank you,” the man said, bending to look. “Thanks so much.”

Finn would have thought the guy’s enthusiasm was a little over the top, but he could pinpoint at least a couple times in his life when he would have gladly let Logan Tremblay write all over him.

“Thanks, guys,” Logan said with a wave. He looked back at Leo and Finn. “Ready?”

Finn hitched Logan’s bag more over his shoulder. “Lead on, Ten.”

Finn saw the way Logan’s shoulders relaxed once they reached the elevator, away from prying eyes. He held out his hand to Finn. “You really didn’t have to carry my bag for me. Feels like you’re dropping me off at class.”

“Should have packed you a lunch,” Leo said.

Logan took his bag, shouldered it, and stepped into Leo’s space. “What would be in my lunch?”

“Oh, the usual,” Leo said. “Turkey sandwich, apple slices, a cookie…” Leo slid his hands around Logan’s waist. “A note telling you that I can’t wait for you to get home so…” The rest was lost to Finn as Leo bent and whispered into Logan’s ear.

It was all right that he didn’t hear. He got to watch Logan sway into him like Leo had hooked his very heart and pulled.

“See you for your nap,” Leo said sweetly. He tucked his hands behind his back and gave Logan a quick kiss.

Logan narrowed his eyes at Leo as he put a hand on Finn’s chest, twisting his t-shirt in his fist. Okay, fine, Finn was hooked, too. “Yeah, if I nap.”

Finn wrapped Logan up in a short hug, knotting his fingers in his hair. “Hey Tremblay…Sign my ass.”

Logan pulled back, shoving Finn away. But he was smiling, brighter than Finn had ever thought any of them would be able to do in this place.

“Game three,” Finn said. “You got this.”

They watched the elevator doors close, Logan leaning over to see them until he was just one green eye. Until he couldn’t anymore. They waved off the remaining fans when they walked back to the street level. Finn made straight for the subway—he didn’t want to be in this traffic hell Midtown longer than he had to. Leo followed him closely, their knuckles brushing until Finn hooked their little fingers together, then took his hand.

“So, what’d you whisper?”

Leo’s laugh echoed off the tiles as they descended the stairs underground. “Maybe you’ll find out later.”

“I hope so.” Finn let Leo through to the platform first, then went through himself. “Alex always dared me to jump these, and I never could. Lo did it once. First time he came home to the city with me.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “That stray freshman puppy you found did that?”

Finn grinned, putting his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “He was trying to impress me. He just didn’t know it yet. Spent the rest of the time waiting for the train looking over his shoulder all nervous.”

“Okay, that’s more like him.” As the train began to pull into the station, a rush of air that did absolutely nothing to break the heat ruffled Leo’s hair. Leo nudged a toe of his sneaker against Finn’s. “Hey, where you taking me?”

Finn reached out and touched the blond strands, then settled a hand against Leo’s cheek. “Surprise.”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “I’m sweaty, sorry.”

“Like that’s ever bothered me.”

As the doors opened and Finn shuffled them inside, he caught Leo eyeing the pole distastefully.

“Hang onto me instead,” Finn said, taking Leo’s hands and placing them on his waist.

“And what are you gonna hold onto?”

“My New Yorker feet.”

Leo rolled his eyes but squeezed his hips. “Twenty bucks say you fall.”

“Not with you holding onto me.”

Leo eyed him until the doors slid shut with a ding and the train lurched forward. Finn balanced like he’d been doing his whole life, easing them both into the train’s rocking and jolting with his hands on Leo’s hips. He tilted his forehead down to Leo’s and winked.

“All right, city-boy. Now really,” Leo said, their lips brushing. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere,” Finn replied. “But don’t worry. We’ll be home in time for me to buy you take-out and watch baby play.”

Finn led them back onto street level when they reached uptown. The sun felt brighter up here, with Central Park relieving some of the crowded, hot feeling that the buildings gave out. Sweat shone on Leo’s temples as he put his sunglasses on.

“Hmm,” Leo said. “Okay. Interesting.”

“You game to walk across the park?” Finn asked. “Because we’re walking across the park.”

“I’m game for anything. But I have one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I want to make out under a tree on our way.”

Finn closed his eyes and turned into Leo. He kissed the salty skin of his neck. “That’s not a condition. That’s a reward.”

“You’re walking with your eyes closed.”

Finn smiled and opened them. He brought Leo’s hand up to kiss. “Sometimes feeling you and seeing you at the same time are just too much.”

He liked the way it made Leo stare at him. He slapped a hand against Finn’s chest, but kept it there. “Shut up.”

“Pick a spot.”

Leo looked forward. They weren’t in short supply. There were baseball diamonds just ahead of them and The Great Lawn beyond that, speckled with picnic blankets and kids running around.

“C’mon,” Leo said. “Let’s get your pretty little head out of the sun.”

Leo jogged ahead, but Finn didn’t mind. He stopped when he found a dappled spot of shade and waited for Finn there, spreading his arms out with a grin before sitting down in the grass.

“Here!” he called. “Get your butt over here, city-boy, and sit in the dirt and grass.”

‘Yikes,” Finn teased, but he let himself down beside Leo with a huff, being careful of his shoulder. “You think I don’t sit in grass?”

“You do love a good leather booth and bistro chair.”

Finn laughed. “Fair.”

“Speaking of.”

“Speaking of?”

Leo leaned in and brushed their noses together. “Take-out is nice. But I think tonight you should take me, sit me down practically in your lap in one of those leather booths, and order us ice cold martinis and that to-die-for steak at that place we love. Then you take me home to watch Logan play.”

Finn grinned and hooked a finger in Leo’s closest belt loop. “In my lap, you say?”

“Yes. The place where they have those garage doors that open and let all the heat in.”

“Okay, I will.”

“So I can start the night watching the sun set, and end it in a dim enough corner for kissing until a waiter has to clear their throat to get our attention.”

“I thought the kisses were reserved for this very tree right here.”

Leo smiled as he tilted his head into Finn’s palm when he cupped his cheek. “Your ears get pink��” His words broke off into Finn’s first kiss. “—when you drink gin.”

“You and Lo say that about everything.” Finn kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, before finding his mouth again.

“We think about it a lot.”

Finn felt his cheeks warm when Leo reached up and tweaked his ear. Maybe he did prefer booths and bistros and couches and warm soft chairs that bookstores kept in their corners, but when Leo laid him down in the grass of the very place he used to wonder about finding someone, about loving someone, he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Leo’s mouth was soft. He kept Finn still and heavy with kisses that made Finn feel like the warm earth was becoming as cloudy as his head. Everything was so soft, so smudged and perfect, that he almost missed it when Leo said—

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Le.” His time with Logan was invaluable, but there was nothing like the three of them. Nothing at all. “But you came back to me happier, so—”

“No, I mean…” Finn felt him press his mouth down on his shoulder before Leo pulled back to look at him. He was framed by the sky. “I missed you while I was away, yes. But I missed you in the locker room after what Jack did. And when you were home but you were hurting and not yourself. And I missed you when—when…”

“When Logan got traded,” Finn said softly.

“Yeah,” Leo said shakily. He stroked Finn’s hair back from his face. He bent down and kissed the shell of Finn’s ear then came back smiling. “Yeah.”

Finn wished he could see the two of them. The way Leo put one thigh over his, and the grass stain on his t-shirt.

“Needed this,” Leo sighed.

Finn kissed the corner of Leo’s mouth. “I’d like a list of all the things you need, ranked in the order you’d like them.”

Leo’s laugh was soft, and Finn kissed his left dimple when it appeared. “Finn…”

“Okay, fine, we’ll start here,” Finn whispered. “Help me and this slightly bum shoulder up, and come with me.”

~

The cottage always seemed to take the sunset into its very paint and walls. It soaked through the windows and made it almost impossible to sit at the dining room table without the gauzy white curtains drawn. Those curtains turned the lake into a glistening blur. It set the rosé glasses on fire. Remus wanted to sit between Lily and Sirius and look at Harry happily babbling from his mother’s lap for the rest of his life.

“So, Logan’s sisters called me—well, Noelle called me,” Remus said. “And they’re sticking around in New York until the Rangers—you know.”

“Win or lose,” Julian supplied, and then knocked on wood at the same time as Remus. Sirius was holding the wooden salad bowl to pass to Hope and drummed his fingers on it once.

“Right,” Remus said. “So, that’ll happen. And then they’re going to be at the Shore Hotel, so that’s really close. And Logan is surprising Leo and Finn with a cabin, they think they’re staying at a hotel.” Remus put a hand on the sun-warmed back of Sirius’ neck.

“Ouais,” Sirius said. “I told him to get one because if we’re doing what we said—you get ready here at the cottage, I thought I would get ready with Reg, James, Tremz and Pascal there.” Sirius took Remus’ hand and kissed it, smiling. “Then I meet you at the end of the dock.”

“I have so many plans,” James said. “I mean, Dumo vetoed like eighty percent of them, but I still have so many plans.”

Sirius grinned. “Maybe I have plans, too.”

“What?” James shook his head. “No, I do. You can’t have plans, you’re the—one of the grooms!”

“I also have plans,” Lily cut in, looping her arm through Remus’. At Remus’ face she patted his cheek. “Super chill plans. Leo and I brought Talker down a few notches.”

“A few?”

“A lot of notches.”

“Hold up,” James said. “Whose side is Finn on?”

“He requested to, and I quote, ‘wander between the two,’” Lily said.

“Classic,” Remus said.

“Oh, those O’Hara boys are just the sweetest,” Hope said. Harry slapped the table as if in agreement.

“Why do all parents love Finn so much?” James asked.

“He’s just charming, that’s all,” Lily said. “But yeah, I don’t know how he’s going to pull it off, but he wants to wander.”

“If we forget any last minute things, he can run to the shops,” Hope said.

“I actually think he’d love that,” Sirius laughed.

Remus grabbed for another bread roll and Sirius passed him the butter without a word.

“Plans or no plans,” Remus said. “My original point was we have dates for everyone’s arrival, no matter how far the Rangers make it. Literally all we have to do is remember to pick stuff up.”

Hope hummed. “You’d be surprised at how difficult that can be. The flowers are late, the cake is late—it turns into a whole thing.”

“For sure,” Remus said, but smiled at her then pulled a face at Harry who giggled. “But do I really need flowers and cake or do I just need my husband?”

“For sure,” Lily parroted. “But your guests definitely need flowers and cake.”

Julian raised a hand. “I totally need cake.”

James raised both hands. “I totally need flowers. For reasons that are beyond me.”

Remus laughed and felt Sirius stretch his arm out over the back of his chair. He knew it meant Sirius only needed one thing for this wedding, too, and it was him.

“What kind of plans?” Remus knelt on their bed to push open the windows. The night had cooled, and he wanted to clear out some of the stuffiness the day’s heat had trapped. He got hot enough with Sirius pressed up against his back all night.

Sirius looked up from where he’d been checking the time on his phone. “Puck drop in five. Plans for what?”

“About your bachelor party, you said you had plans.”

Sirius laughed. “Reg and I were talking about it. I just wanted to freak James out a little. We’re gonna have dinner at that place you showed me. Play pool, darts.”

Remus pushed himself off the bed. “Dinner, huh?”

“Oh, come on.” Sirius clicked his tongue. “You know me. Dumo will order good wine, Leo will order the best—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Remus pointed a finger at him. “Leo’s on my team.”

“Your team?”

“My team.”

Remus loved that outraged, amused smile Sirius was giving him now. He gave it to refs, he gave it to Logan. Remus wouldn’t choose it over the little-kid laugh, but it was something—especially as Sirius walked across their room’s creaking floorboards and set two palms down on either side of Remus’ hips, pressing into the old mattress springs and making them whine.

“Creek creek,” Remus whispered. He tilted his mouth up to brush Sirius’.

“So, we have teams now,” Sirius whispered back. He kissed Remus so lightly. A feather, there-and-gone.

“And here you were thinking you’d finally gotten me on yours,” Remus put his arms around Sirius’ neck, pushing until Sirius was straightening and Remus could put his socked toes on Sirius’ toes and press their bodies together, standing there in a bedroom he’d been sleeping in since he was little.

Sirius smiled. “Almost.” Both his palms pushed under Remus’ t-shirt. “So close. Any day now.”

“Hey, Cap!” James’ voice came from below. “Lo’s taking first face-off!”

Remus sighed. “Self-torture.” Then, he kissed Sirius’ protests until they tasted like a smile.

~

Leo recognized the steps immediately. They were broad and stone and timeless, leading up to stone pillars. School kids were led in lines—the little ones jubilant, the older ones shuffling. Tourists raised their cameras high, and groups of people on their lunch break made clusters at various heights.

“You’re sweet,” Leo said. “You took me to the MET?”

Finn smiled. “I like watching you look at things. And besides, we better do it while Lo’s busy or else he’ll sulk if we bring him along and sulk if we leave him behind.”

“A-plus timing,” Leo laughed as they began to climb. “Hey, speaking of Lo. I think he doesn’t want to ask if we’ll come to Florida…but.”

“Oh, he definitely wants us to come to Florida.” Finn reached for his wallet. “I can feel it when he stares—” Leo snorted, Finn tilted his head back, laughing as they crossed into the grand entrance hall. “You know the stare.”

Leo pushed his nose into Finn’s cheek, eyes wide open. “This one?”

“Bit of an exaggeration and also wildly true.”

Leo grinned. “You, Logan, ocean. Sounds good to me.” He looked down at the red member card Finn had gotten out. “You keep a membership while you live in a different city?”

“I am nothing if not loyal, Butter.” He held his card out to the guard waiting in front of a long, white room flooded with light.

“One guest?” She scanned his card.

“Yes, indeed.” Finn smiled at her.

“Your name is Butter?” she asked.

Leo stared at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious. She just looked back with slightly uninterested blue eyes.

“I…” Leo nodded. “Yes. My name is Butter. Thanks.”

He pulled Finn into the waiting galleries before she could see him laughing.

~

Logan found a spot on the floor while they waited for coach to get the pre-game video loaded. He stretched his legs out, kneading one of his thighs. Percy was singing, Will was trying to cover his mouth, and Saint was watching them both with narrowed eyes. Logan didn’t know if he knew he was crushing the red bull can in his hands, but Luke gently eased it out of his fingers and drained the remaining liquid.

“Hey.” Alex settled himself down beside him.

“Hey,” Logan said. He sent him a quick smile, then did a double take. “Hey…”

Alex might not be Finn, but Logan liked to think he knew his O’Haras. He knew that lilac color. He knew that slightly vacant brown-eyed stare that only came out when Finn was trying oh-so very hard to be all right. Logan had put that look on his face more than once. He didn’t like seeing it.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked quietly as someone turned the lights out in the room. The screen flickered to life, showing Florida’s starting line frozen in the middle of a play.

“Hm?” Alex didn’t look at him.

“Maybe I’m summoned when you get that look on your face.”

Alex, recognizing his own words, let out a tired laugh. He glanced Logan’s way.

Logan pushed their shoulders together. “By my inner Finn.”

“I’m all right,” Alex said.

Logan waited, keeping his eyes ahead as Coach began to talk through defense. It felt nice to sit surrounded by teammates. Nice to be in the dark. He was tired and exhilarated all at once, heart fast but limbs sore.

“It’s kind of—I don’t know. I was wrong,” Alex said softly. “You know when you just play something out in your head, but it turns out that what you were thinking only makes sense in your head?”

“If Finn was here—” And maybe Logan couldn’t stand that he wasn’t, that Leo wasn’t, and he wasn’t sure if that feeling was ever going to give him any peace, “he would say I’m the dictionary picture of that.”

Alex smiled slightly. “That boy has a lot of sayings.”

“That boy?”

“What? My baby brother? Fish-Finn.”

Logan smiled. “I remember hearing you call him Fish the first time.”

“When?”

“Well—not the best time. First concussion.”

Alex’s face lit up, but only in recognition. “Oh, that’s right. You were asleep in the chair.”

“Yeah. That was the first time I dreamed about kissing him. Ever.”

Alex’s eyebrows went up. “And you’re telling me I woke you up from that?”

“Yeah, fuck you.”

It earned Logan a smile at least. Alex still looked troubled as he returned his eyes to the screen. They listened. Logan took note of positions and numbers and the warning that there was some bad blood towards him and number 56 wanted to fight. When he shrugged, Luke and Percy laughed at him.

The lights came up to soon, and he was left looking at Alex as they both squinted a little in the sudden brightness.

Alex patted a hand on his chest. “I’ll be okay, Tremz. Really. Let’s do this first.”

The words seemed tired, but not like a lie.

~

Ice Floes. Claude Monet.

Finn’s shoulder pressed warmly against Leo’s as they stared at the hazy white landscape. The gallery was calm around them. A tour group murmured in another room. Two older women sat on the bench with their canes between their knees.

“For Lo’s birthday once,” Finn said softly. “I took him to a pond to skate because he said he missed it. Looked like this.”

“That first birthday you knew him, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Finn’s pinky finger found Leo’s and he hooked them together. “And—well, you know the rest of that story.”

“That I do.” Leo shivered just remembering it. His eyes found the small, paint scratched signature in the painting’s corner. A thought made him laugh.

“What?” Finn asked.

“Artists sign their work.” Leo pointed to it. “That man wanted Logan to think he was a piece of art.”

Finn laughed—maybe too loudly for a museum. “That man could only be art because he wants Logan’s name tattooed on his body.”

“Oh? Do you want Logan’s name tattooed on your body?”

“No,” Finn said, but he tilted his head. “I would, however, like Logan to get some more tattoos.”

“Mm, yeah.” Leo leaned his temple against Finn’s. “Where? Arm?”

“Forearm.”

“Forearm, yeah. Collarbone.”

“Oh, yeah, good one. Back?”

“Mm. No, I like it as it is.”

“True,” Finn said. “You’d look good with a tattoo.”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “Eh.”

“You would. I’m not a tattoo person. I don’t think.”

“There’s something pretty about just you and all your freckles.” Leo squeezed their linked fingers. “Your head okay? Shoulder?”

“Knees and toes, knees and toes…”

Leo laughed. “Okay, okay. Where to next?”

They walked back downstairs to the bright sky-lit rooms of ancient Greece and Rome. They passed the large column, the intricate vases of fighting warriors and seated Gods. Leo wondered if he could find any replicas of the pretty Roman glass. He lost a wandering Finn while he was taking photographs to show his mom, but found him again in front of Heracles. He had his head tilted at the statue’s thick chest, only covered by the paws of the thick lion skin draped across the statue’s back.

“Halloween costume?” Leo asked, and Finn rolled his eyes and pulled him away.

They walked to the room transported from Pompeii, then deeper into the museum to suits of armor and lances. Leo found himself thinking of a school field trip. He’d been a junior in high school, whispers and stirrings about the NHL already surrounding him so much so that some of his teammates in his history class thought it was stupid for him to be excited about something as small as a field trip to a local museum. He had been though.

At least until Jack wouldn’t so much as look at him on the bus, never mind sit beside him.

Now, he felt Finn’s palm push under the hem of his shirt, brushing a thumb over the small of his back. They were in a darker part of the gallery, dim except for the low lights aimed at the weapons. Finn had pulled out his glasses to read the museum sign, but pushed them into his hair as he finished.

“Cool,” Finn said. “The hilts come off, so you can replace your blade. Or I guess change the hilt with your outfit? Do you think—”

Leo put a hand on his jaw, turning his head, and kissed him.

Finn hummed when Leo pulled away. “Fantastic. Kisses and weapons.”

“Thanks for sitting with me on buses,” Leo whispered. “And taking me to museums.”

Finn put those Jack-tinged pieces together quickly, and his eyes softened.

“Thanks for telling me you wanted me the first time I asked,” Finn said.

Leo’s eyebrows went up, and Finn smiled, wrapping his arm more fully around Leo’s waist.

“Like you didn’t know Logan wanted you,” Leo said.

“I did. I just didn’t know if he’d ever let himself take me.”

“Those words sure sound sweet coming out of your mouth.”

“Oh yeah?” Finn smiled. “Besides, I am pretty Lo-fluent.”

Low on his stomach, Leo covered Finn’s hand with his own. “Funny, he’s said the same thing about you.”

“Oh, I bet he has.” Finn nosed against Leo’s cheek, and stole a slow, leisurely kiss—far too much for a museum, even the quiet corner of one. “But still. You looked me in the eye. One-for-one.”

“And then I ran away from you?” Leo reminded him, kissing his jaw.

“But you let me come find you.”

“He wanted that, too. Believe me.”

Finn laughed. “You don’t have to defend him. You know I’d have kept him in my pocket if I could. Always.” Finn gave his hand a little tug on Leo’s waist and began to nudge him towards a free corner. “I’m taking about you. I’d keep you there, too.”

“Your pocket? Honey, I like it in your arms just fine.”

“Oh,” Finn said around a smile, then “hm” just before he kissed him again.

Leo didn’t know if he should be leaning against a wall here, didn’t know where a guard was to yell at him, and didn’t really care. At one point, he put his hands into Finn’s hair and had to catch the glasses he’d forgotten about. The small gasp he gave as his fingers fumbled for them let Finn right in, and suddenly any sort of footsteps or place was simply gone.

“Ready to go,” Finn guessed when Leo made a wanting sound, then smiled and kissed him again, quick. “Yeah, we are.”

~

Kasey was waiting for Alex on their floor outside their building’s elevator. Alex was pushing his hair back, still damp from his shower at the rink, and rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he saw him. He’d already begun tugging his tie from his neck. His muscles ached, and his shoulder had felt just a little off since that open-ice hit in the middle of the third, but when those doors opened and he saw Kasey leaning against the wall in the hallway, it all dimmed. The caught gaze between them felt as unfinished as their words.

“Good game,” Kasey said.

“Thanks,” Alex tugged his tie all the way off and let the elevator close behind him. “How did you know I was home?”

“I tracked your location.” Kasey slid his hands into his pockets. “Just like to know where you are. And what you’re doing.” His mouth pulled to the side. “And if you’re okay.”

Alex rolled his shoulder. He dropped his go-bag, walked forward, and kissed him. It maybe came out a little rough. Kasey’s hands found his hips. They slid up the arch of his lower back. Alex held onto his shoulders, turning into the softness of Kasey’s mouth until they had to breathe. He broke the kiss, catching his breath, then tried to lean back in. He was stopped by Kasey’s hand on his jaw. His thumb came to rest just over Alex’s bottom lip. Alex kept his eyes closed, waiting. Kasey’s thumb tapped twice. The silence was long, but it was like basking in sun.

“What, you couldn’t…” Kasey began softly. “You couldn’t talk to me about it?”

Alex was sure he could feel it each time Kasey’s brown eyes shifted over his face.

Kasey grasped Alex’s shoulders. “All the times we… Al, you took me ring shopping. I feel horrible, I feel so, so horrible—”

Alex couldn’t help it. He turned away. He rubbed a hand over his chest and beating heart.

“I need you to tell me things,” Kasey said. “I need you to.”

“I…” Alex’s voice hardly came out. He looked at the warped reflection of the two of them in the elevator doors. More silhouettes than anything. “I want you to be happy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Alex, what—” Kasey stepped forward, voice raising. “And you think you don’t make me happy?”

“It wasn’t about me!” Alex turned back towards him. He couldn’t keep the break out of his voice. “It was—”

“I want it to be! I can’t—I can’t come home and—it turns out that you think—” Kasey was shouting now. Alex had seen it happen once. Maybe twice. “It turns out you think you’re sometimes to me? Sometimes?”

“You were getting married!”

“You said you were okay with it! You’re still ours.”

“What the fuck was I supposed to say?” Alex could feel the burn in his throat. “What the fuck was going to happen if I said no?”

“So you decided to lie?”

“I decided to keep you for as—” Alex broke off. Aware they were in a hallway, he dropped his voice. “For as long as I could.”

Kasey flinched. He took a step backwards. He filled up the hallway with his broad shoulders and the way the light caught his hair. He filled up Alex’s head with everything from the way he tossed anything he was holding between his hands like a puck, to the sheepish way he kissed in the morning.

“What?” Kasey’s whisper was hoarse and desperate. “What?”

Alex just shook his head. He wanted to take the words back. Right then, if he could have, he would have reeled back every word he’d ever said in his life. “I…I don’t know. I’m so stupid, Kase, I don’t…I’m…”

Kasey made a frustrated noise, and then Alex was being crowded against the wall. Kasey put his hands on either side of his head so they were eye-level.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kasey whispered. He nudged his nose against Alex’s cheek. “You—Hazard…”

Alex nodded. He’d always liked his nickname, but right then it just felt like the truth.

“No,” Kasey whispered. It had a scolding tinge to it. “You’re not. Not like that.” Kasey kissed his cheek. He let his mouth stay there, warm and soft. “You’re not.”

Alex realized he was was kissing tears.

“I’m a mess,” Alex said.

Kasey pressed a palm to Alex’s other cheek, thumbing away the trails. “You’re not a mess. You’re crying.”

That made Alex laugh, startled and, well, a little snotty. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is you’re not a mess,” Kasey said. He kissed the corner of Alex’s mouth. “And you look fucking gorgeous.”

“You’re mad at me,” Alex said.

“A little, yeah.” Kasey leaned back to look at him. “And I love you so much I might lose it.”

Alex sniffed again. “God. God, I love you, too. You’re angry.”

“I can be both. And one part will fade. Guess which? Not the love part. That’s been here to stay since the first day I met you and you wouldn’t shut the hell up up and let me go to sleep.”

“I…” Alex took a few moments to twist an end of Kasey’s hair around his finger. “I don’t—I have this little brother, you may know him?”

Kasey’s eyebrows went up, amused. “Uh-huh. Think so.”

“He had this boy at college that he…” Alex sniffed, blinking away the wetness from his vision. “I don’t remember his name. Liam Trombone, or something.”

Kasey smiled, just a little. “You have the weirdest sense of humor.”

“Lionel Trustfund.”

“Finish the story that I already know.”

  “Okay.” Alex dropped his eyes, studying the curve of Kasey’s upper lip. “The little brother burned up a little, waiting for him. And there was nothing I could do to help him.”

“Okay,” Kasey’s expression had softened, listening.

“I didn’t know how to help him, but I knew how much he was hurting.” Alex put his hands on Kasey’s chest. “I think that little brother’s stronger than I am. I think he’s smarter than I am. I think he could survive it. Even if it didn’t work out.”

Kasey’s hands covered his.

“I don’t…think I could,” Alex whispered. “So I tried to stop it before it was too…”

“I get it,” Kasey said. “Don’t worry, I understand now.”

“Maybe I’m jealous,” Alex said. “Or I’m insecure, or something fucking stupid like that—”

“Maybe,” Kasey cut him off, “you’re as in love with us as we are with you. Maybe we’re fucking stupid or something like that. Maybe I was leaving hockey and I knew just one part of this new life that I was about to have, and that part is Natalie.” Kasey ducked until Alex looked at him. “Maybe I couldn’t believe I actually got you back and I didn’t…” Kasey pressed his lips together against tears. “You’re not just sometimes, Al. Of everything in my life, you’re the only thing that’s always been always. I don’t have this incredible family like you do, I don’t have…I’ve always had my teammates, and then I had Natalie, but first I had—first there was suddenly this really kind, fun…loud person—”

Alex let out a breath of a laugh and Kasey smiled, brows drawn together against the tears.

“Really beautiful person suddenly filling up my life,” Kasey finished, carding Alex’s hair back from his face. “First there was you.”

Alex nodded hard. “You’re that for me. You’re that for me, too.”

Suddenly, Natalie’s voice filtered down the hallway. “This hallway has very bad lighting for confessions of love.”

Alex closed his eyes and laughed when Kasey grinned. They turned to see her leaning out of their doorway. She wore Rangers blue.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Alex said, rubbing at his eyes. “Where is my bag?”

“I’ve got it,” Kasey said.

Kasey picked his things up and followed Alex to their door.

Natalie stood aside from the doorway, letting them in, and looked up at Alex. “I would have gone with Leroy Trampoline.”

“Laurence Trespass,” Kasey added from behind him.

For some reason, it was that that truly made Alex cry. Natalie was ready for it. She didn’t let Alex put a hand over his eyes. She caught it and kissed it. She smoothed a hand over Alex’s shoulder, as she kissed his cheek.

“And when were you going to tell us this hurts, too?”

“My shoulder hurts a little,” Alex said somewhat dutifully, and she smiled, shaking her head.

“O’Hara,” Kasey began to protest.

“Barely,” Alex said. He wrapped Natalie up around her waist and lifted her off her feet a little. “Okay, okay, I promise. I don’t know why I hide it, I really don’t. Natalia?”

“Alexander.”

���You look so beautiful when you look at wedding things,” Alex said softly. “Are you sure you…Are you sure you don’t…” Alex shook his head. He looked at Kasey pointedly, then shook his head down at himself. “I mean, I…Are you sure?”

“What can I say,” Natalie said, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I want two diamonds. And two pairs of brown eyes. And two hearts. And you. You.” She kissed him more fully, hands in his hair, and said her next words against his mouth. “Let them call me greedy, see if I care.”

~

“No,” Leo pushed at Finn’s cheek, laughing. “Lick Logan all you want, don’t lick me.”

They were just a little tipsy after a full dinner and watching Logan play, tucked into a booth at Finn’s favorite place with whiskey and Leo’s mouth on on his neck. Finn was possibly feeling a little riled up from Logan’s intense expression on the TV, and Leo’s bright smile right beside him. He’d let himself be pulled home, pulled through their door, pulled into Leo’s arms, pulled against his body. Leo was salt and sweet. Finn had gotten him off once already—right here, Leo had said, pushing Finn to his knees in the entrance hall. Ever since Lo said about you two…He’d glanced over his shoulder at the mirror and laughed. Finn liked the way that small table rattled against the mirror. He and Logan bit back smiles whenever they locked eyes in that mirror now, coming in from a walk or dinner. He’d never walk through there the same way now. Not with Logan, not with Leo, not alone.

“Okay, okay, okay, come back.” Finn kissed Leo’s cheek, turned against the pillows. He was stretched out against the bed now, bare except for his boxers. “Come back.”

Leo pretended to keep his face turned away, smiling, but his hands were sliding down to Finn’s hips, pushing into his boxers and turning back to kiss him.

“Do I get to—” Finn couldn’t help the low sound in the back of his throat as Leo closed a hand around his cock. “—hear—to hear more of the list of the things you want?”

Leo’s palm was warm, his pulls slow and teasing. “You’re hearing it right now.”

“Oh,” Finn’s voice felt tight and coiled in his throat. “Uh-huh.”

Leo hooked an ankle over the back of Finn’s knee. His free hand scratched through Finn’s hair, angling his chin for another kiss. Finn pressed his hands into the pillows by Leo’s head, fingers fisting the material as Leo’s hand sped up. But then, Leo was using that ankle as leverage, and suddenly Finn found himself on his back.

“Don’t…” Leo whispered the word, even mouthed it. He let Finn slide his palms down his ribs. “Move.”

Then he was grinning and gone, leaving Finn staring up at the ceiling.

“I—wait, I, what?” Finn stuttered. “I—what?”

“Don’t move!” Leo shouted from the living room.

Finn heard rummaging, and Leo’s bare feet on the hardwood.

It was funny, being alone in this bedroom. Logan’s bedroom. He turned his head into the pillow and could smell his scent there. Logan’s bed had been a rare delicacy at one time. Being in it. Being warm in it, being cold in it. Being cramped in it. Waiting for him to come back but waking up alone in it.

He’d never been in Leo’s bed when they’d lived together before they were together. He’d sat on top of the covers. Or rumpled covers. Warm from Leo just waking up, Finn back from his run and showered, watching him go back and forth from the bathroom, getting ready. A little hard in his jeans at Leo’s smile and skin.

“Le?” Finn called. He looked down at himself, briefs tight, and ran his thumbs just above his waistband. He’d leaked a mess while sucking Leo off and he was tempted to kick away the darkened material. But he wanted Leo to do it. “Come back.”

“I’m coming!”

“Whatever you think you need, you don’t,” Finn called again.

“Oh-ho, yes, I do.” His voice was closer now. He came back to the doorway, still in his boxers. Finn’s heart gave a kick at the shape of him, trapped tight against his body. Nothing looked new. He wasn’t holding anything that Finn could see, but his hands were tucked behind his back. He was smiling, teasing almost, but his eyes dropped to Finn’s hips and it turned soft. He bit his bottom lip and tilted his head, then withdrew a hand and held something up—a Sharpie.

“You left me for a pen.”

Leo uncapped the pen with a flourish and pointed the nib at Finn’s body. “Art.”

“Oh my God,” Finn said.

“You are so turned on right now,” Leo said delightedly. He knelt on the bed, jostling them both, and swung a leg over Finn’s hips. They both let out a breath as Leo spent a few moments grinding down on him. Finn got a hand around the back of his neck and pushed his nose against Leo’s left dimple.

Leo smiled into it. “Kiss me.” He traced his tongue over Finn’s bottom lip, coaxing Finn into opening his mouth and kissing him properly. When Finn did, Leo groaned softly, pleased.

“Yeah…Like that,” Leo murmured, and Finn made his own pleased sound when Leo slumped against his chest to be kissed. Finn had just settled back against his pillows, tilting his head to scrape his teeth gently against Leo’s lower lip, his hands guiding Leo’s hips down in slow rolls against his own, when Leo gasped for air. Finn smiled and kissed him again, harder, sloppier, before Leo broke away.

“God, Finn.” Leo leaned back, hand rubbing at himself through his boxers, then Finn. “Okay, okay, where to write first?”

Finn laughed. “There are a whole lot of things we could be doing that don’t involve writing.”

Leo ignored him. He studied Finn’s torso, then spread a warm palm against his ribs and bent down. Finn tried not to jump when the cool point of the pen began tracing a slow line over his skin.

He tried to pick out the cursive letters, but couldn’t. Instead, he let his head rest back against the pillows. “That’s kind of nice.”

Leo capping the pen and admiring his work. He blew softly on the ink, though it had dried, and Finn shivered. When he looked, he saw that Leo had written his signature, and he laughed at the fact that he’d even included his number like he’d do for fans.

“Wow.” Finn reached forward to pull Leo down against him. “Do you have any idea how much I’d be worth on Ebay now?”

“Oh, shh,” Leo said, but let Finn steal the pen from him.

“Shh,” Finn parroted, and grasped Leo’s knees and flipped him onto his back. The pen was warm, so was the center of his chest when Finn kissed it. He sat back on his heels like Leo had. “What do you want, Sunshi—oh, I’m doing that.”

Finn chose the spot on Leo’s hip were Logan’s tattoo resided and drew a small sun. Circle, rays coming out. Over the bump of his ribs, he started the straight line of his signature. F. Then the loop of the O. Then, smaller, 17.

“What number would I be if I wasn’t 17?”

Leo snorted. “Ten.”

Finn smiled. “No way.”

“Hm…Maybe 22.”

Finn made an interested noise. He drew a small heart near Leo’s left nipple. “That’s a good one.”

“And me? And don’t just say another classic goalie number. Like, 30 or something.”

Finn capped the pen and swiped his thumb over the sun. “Maybe…Something with a seven in it. 72. Or a 4. I like 4 for you. 74. Or 3. Three of us, three on your jersey.”

Leo put his hands behind his head, smiling. “I ask for one number, of course you give me four.”

Finn shrugged. “What can I say? You’re versatile.” Finn put his hands over Leo’s wrists where they were resting above his blond, messy hair. “I like that about you.”

One moment Leo was grinning, and the next he was swinging his weight up to put Finn on his back again. “Oh?”

Finn ran his hands down the full length of Leo’s back and gripped the back of his thighs.

“I really, really want you,” Leo whispered. “Fuck, Finn, I loved today.”

“I know,” Finn whispered back. “Me too.” When he messed with the band of Leo’s briefs, Leo was helping him get them off before he could even ask, “yeah?”

Leo moaned into Finn’s kiss, and Finn’s cock jumped at the want and relief in it. Leo just pushed the elastic band below his balls and pressed against Finn’s body like he couldn’t wait any longer. Finn got a hand between them, giving him a tight hold to fuck into. He was already slick.

At the same moment, their front door slammed.

“Hello?” Logan shouted. Keys in a bowl. Bag dropping down to the floor. “I’m home.”

“Oh…” Leo panted. “Oh—”

“Good?” Finn settled a warm hand on his lower back. He didn’t care that he himself was aching. He wanted to make Leo come again the second Logan found them. “Come when you see him.”

Leo was too far gone for his laugh to be anything by half-breath. He was rocking into Finn’s fist more roughly now and Finn crossed an ankle over the back of Leo’s knee to give him more leverage.

“You wanna finish like this?” Finn swiped a soothing thumb over his back. “Hm, baby? Anything you want.”

“I need to.” Leo’s voice was shaky. “I’m so…”

“Yeah, you are.” He could hear Logan’s footsteps coming towards them and knew Leo could, too. Gently, Finn nudged his nose into Leo’s hot cheek until he turned his head towards the bedroom doorway. “Look.”

Leo’s breathing jumped. “I’m coming, I’m—”

Finn felt the first hot streak of Leo’s come on his chest, his neck, just as Logan appeared in the doorway. He was still in his suit, a light grey three-piece that Finn loved him in. His hair was dark, damp still, dripping on his collar. He had a new but shallow cut on his jaw. He stopped hard when he took in the sight in front of him.

“Hello, Lolo.” Finn’s voice was a little tight from the feeling of Leo pressing down on him. “What’s up?”

“Fuck,” Leo panted, eyes hooded.

Logan just stared. “I…”

Finn smiled and turned back to Leo. He carded his fingers through his hair and loosened his grip around his cock, bringing him down with gentle strokes. He was so hot in his palm, spent and softening. Finn felt like even the fabric around him could set him off.

“You,” Leo whispered, smiling as he noticed. “You’re so…”

“I’m good. You’re perfect,” Finn said. “Feel like I’ve come twice just watching you.”

Leo’s smile turned wide and sated. His kiss was slow. Out of Logan’s view, Leo slipped the Sharpie into his hand and Finn grinned, arching into Leo’s hips and the kisses he’d began placing on the underside of his jaw.

Logan just crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. Slowly, he found the different marks and dark lines on their skin, and frowned. “What is…that?”

Finn brought the pen up to his mouth and took the cap off with his teeth. “C’mere, Ten.”

Logan took a small step back, one corner of his mouth lifting, unsure. “What the fuck?”

Leo leaned back from what Finn was sure was entirely different type of artwork now dotting his neck. “Finn took me to the museum.”

“Artists sign art,” Finn added.

He gave Leo’s shoulder a small push and settled him on his back again and sat up with his knees parted over Leo’s hips. Leo reached out a hand to cup Finn’s covered cock, and Finn let himself rock into it gently as he surveyed Leo’s lean, pale skin, already marked in a few places. He felt like he’d been on the edge for hours. Sometimes, he didn’t want it to end. “Ah. Here.”

He wrote slowly, scrawling his signature again across Leo’s inner arm. He watched the way Leo’s breathing hitched and how goosebumps spread out from the marker’s cold nib. Leo didn’t laugh like he had before. He just pressed up into Finn’s hold as Finn scooted backwards and hooked one of Leo’s strong, slender legs over his shoulder and considered the expanse of Leo’s inner thigh, right where it was softest and sprinkled with blond hair. Finn steadied him, fingers in the strong crease of his hip, and drew a heart.

“Huh.” Logan’s mouth was slightly open. “Isn’t that bad, like, for skin?”

“Not my skin,” Leo whispered. He had his hands above his head and watched Finn through dark, half-closed eyes. “Not in those hands.” He turned his head. “What are you still doing over there?”

“Waiting for someone to take this suit off of me.”

Leo gave Finn a small smack on the hip that Finn took as go. Finn slipped off the bed. In two strides, he was in front of Logan, gently tilting his neck to the side, and writing a small 17 just below his ear.

“Hi, demanding one,” Finn said, then capped the pen a put it between his teeth to hold while he got to work on Logan’s tie.

“Why do you keep putting that in your mouth?”

“To draw your attention to it,” Finn said around the pen.

“Please remember I have to go into a locker room.”

“Oh, come on. You know I gotta show Luke what’s mine.”

Logan tilted his head back and groaned. “Finn.”

“Just kidding.” Finn took the pen out from between his teeth, cupping the back of Logan’s head to pull him into a kiss as he slid his tie out from his collar.

“You’re not kidding,” Logan protested, looking at Leo. “Le’s not jealous of Luke. He’s a mature person.”

“I’m jealous of anyone who gets to spend that much time with you these days,” Leo said.

Logan’s eyes turned soft, still staring at Leo as Finn slipped his jacket from his shoulders. It fell uncaringly to the floor. Finn could have watched them look at each other forever. He could feel their locked eyes like a strand of heat beside him. He undid the top buttons of Logan’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders just enough to get at the center of his chest.

Logan looked down when he felt the cold pen. “What—”

“This is so much better than writing on shoes.”

H-E-A-R-T. Finn wanted to circle the letters, carve himself a space, and fall in. He settled for a kiss to the skin, then lower, lower, until he was kneeling and Logan’s shirt was on the ground. There was a fresh bruise on his ribs and Finn gently traced its shape before writing Logan Island.

“You’re so weird,” Logan said faintly. He gave Finn’s hair a little tug, brushed a thumb over his bottom lip, then went to kneel on the bed and kiss Leo.

Finn grinned at his soft salut and the sound of a kiss. He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. While they were busy, he tugged Logan’s socks off and pushed his pant leg up enough to draw a couple stars on the back of his calf. He heard Logan laugh into the kiss. The ink looked different against Logan’s more tan skin. With Leo it was stark and beautiful. Logan made it like it had always been there.

“Good win by the way. We watched you from that corner place we love,” Leo said when Logan rolled on his back to kick off his pants. Leo turned on his side to touch the bruise. “Maybe you should take it easy.”

Logan grumbled something Finn didn’t catch, down to his underwear now.

Leo glanced at Finn, smile knowing. “One more time?”

Logan huffed. “I’ll have big Florida hotel beds to take it easy all by myself all I want.”

Leo reached out for the Sharpie and gave Finn a nod. He hooked a knee over Logan’s thigh and began drawing small stars over Logan’s collarbone.

“Big Florida beds, huh?” Leo asked.

Logan watched Leo’s face as he drew. “Yes.”

“All by yourself?” Finn repeated.

That got Logan to look at him. He still looked put-out by the thought, but there was hesitation there, too.

“Ouais,” he said.

Finn tilted his head. “Says who?”

Leo capped the pen and blew on his stars. They were in a pattern, Finn realized. A constellation.

Logan pushed himself up onto one elbow. He looked between them, mouth open. “Quoi—non. What?”

Finn moved forward to settle in between Logan’s legs, smoothing his hands up Logan’s thighs when he wrapped them around Finn’s waist. “I said, says who?”

“Merci.” The word nearly got lost in Logan’s relieved sigh. Then he was reaching for Finn, locking his fingers around his wrists. “Really? Really?”

“Of course we’re coming with you,” Leo said. “What do you take us for?”

Logan looked like someone had just taken some heavy weight off his shoulders. He turned his head to put Leo’s forehead against his own.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you…”

“Honey, there’s nothing ‘thank you’ about it,” Leo said. “If we can follow you, we will. You know that.”

“I—still. It’s not like I’ll have much free time,” Logan said. “And—And I thought you’d probably want to go home.”

Leo smiled into Logan’s kiss. “Take a look at Harzy. I think he feels pretty at home right where he is.”

“Oh yeah,” Finn said. He leaned down over their them, barely having to turn his head to place a kiss to the corner of Leo’s mouth, then Logan’s. “We’re going to get you some silver. We’re going to go watch our best friends get married. There’s nothing not ‘home’ about any of that.”

~

It almost felt strange, to watch hockey like this again. To worry about who was going to win and not be able to help a team get there. Sirius spared half a moment to glance at Remus as he set his tea down on the table. He said something soft and smiling as Lily handed Harry over to settle sleepily against his chest.

Sirius watched for a moment as a drone image of a Florida beach took up the TV screen. He stood behind the couch with his arms crossed, and as long as the blue water was on the screen, he could lower his hands to mess gently with the hair at Remus’ nape. Remus, rubbing Harry’s back, looked backwards and upside down at him.

“All right, Black, I’m not kidding, you standing there like that is not going to make the Rangers win.”

“I’m not—” The TNT logo flashed and suddenly Logan’s face filled the screen. He had his mouthguard half out of his mouth, and there was a neat line of stitches on his cheek from a re-opened cut. The camera panned to the ice where the Rangers were about to lose the last seconds of a power-play, and Sirius crossed his arms again, back into their original position. “I don’t want them to win.”

Lily scoffed. “We do for right now.”

“Gah,” James put a finger over her lips. “La-la-la.”

“I won’t say that out loud,” Sirius replied.

Around Harry’s sleeping back, Remus mocked Sirius’ position, crossing his arms. “You’re saying you don’t want Logan to win you-know-what?”

Sirius actually flinched. “I’m saying—I’m not saying anything that could influence anything. I’m standing here, watching a friend on television.”

“You’ve had your arms crossed like that since Logan scored in the first period.” Lily looked at the living room clock. “That’s about an hour and a half ago.”

“Oh my God.” Remus let out a loud ha, then put a hand over Harry’s head as if to say sorry. He held up his phone to Lily and James, who made similar sounds, then flipped it to show Sirius. Leo had sent a picture of Finn to the team group chat. Finn was sitting with his back straight in what looked like a hotel room, palm trees outside. He had his hands placed specifically on his knees, his eyes on an out of sight TV.

Leo had written, he hasn’t moved at all since Lo scored but he “isn’t superstitious.”

Sirius pointedly looked back to the television. Logan was on the ice now, gliding into Florida’s zone.

Sirius glared when he heard the sound of Remus’ camera click.

~

They were about to go into their second over time, and Logan had blood in his mouth as he walked down the tunnel to the visitor’s locker room. He checked his teeth, but it was just a cut lip.

“Fucking seventy-four,” Luke said from two steps behind him. “Got a fucking mouth on him.”

“Ouais.” Logan handed his gloves over to be dried and pulled his helmet off. He rubbed at the red mark the tightness had left and tried to think what Finn would be saying over his shoulder right then. He would be talking a mile-a-minute and pressed right up against his back. Logan could text him and Leo and read the words, but that wouldn’t feel the same.

He could imagine it in snatches. If we had gone around—Too early—So fucking gorgeous, Tremzy—I tried to but he cut me off, so next time—

That wasn’t the same, either.

He got a bag of ice, twisting it closed, before sitting down heavily in his stall and holding it against his mouth. It felt swollen already. The bleeding had stopped, at least.

From his stall, he heard his phone buzz.

Sixteen texts from Finn and Leo. Two from Remus.

One from Sirius.

The Sirius one, for some reason, sent his heart all funny. They talked. Of course they talked, but not much and never during games. Too many lines blurred like that, and it was bad enough that Logan still couldn’t look at Sirius without thinking of him as his captain. But there it was. Sirius Black. One new message.

Finn and Leo’s texts were a tangled string of admiration that ranged from sweet to dirty. Logan bit back a smile and vowed to take another look at those later.

Remus had sent him a screenshot from the Lion’s group chat. A photograph of Finn, sitting tensed on the couch. The beat of warmth that Logan got when he realized that intense look on his face was because he was watching him was another thing to be examined later. The second photo, sent by Remus, was of Sirius standing behind a couch with his arms crossed. He wore the same intense look on his face.

Sirius’ lone message was simple. Bring it back home.

Logan knew Sirius was talking about the game. Bring it back to New York, finish this round on home ice, and move on to the final round for the Cup. But the word bled and healed like the cut on Logan’s cheek and lip. Sirius shared more than one home with him. Home was speaking French. Home was Pascal. Home was letting themselves go, and letting themselves love. Logan had been sitting there, trying to imagine home around him. Home was waiting for him in a hotel room not even twenty minutes away. He’d be washed in blue eyes and sun later tonight, in pale skin and auburn hair. The lonely feeling was half-habit when it came to Logan—and Sirius. Sirius knew that better than anyone.

For a fraction of a second, Logan’s world didn’t feel so very far away.

[marmarifer]

Noots!! For my first day of O’Knutzy week, using the “sunglasses” promt and inspired by yesterday’s amazing tennis au that Hazel wrote, I give you… the Challengers poster but make it ✨CUBS✨

@oknutzy-week-2024 thank you for organizing this awesome fest and @lumosinlove thank you for creating the most amazing characters ever!!

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

It is them!!

A birthday present I drew for @the-red-thread-that-strangles :)

[gen4grl]

my johto timeskip designs + bios/teams below!

i think about this group ALOT!!! if i had any confidence in writing i would easily share the whole hgss rewrite i have in my head but alas… just take my drawings instead! i like to give characters more “realistic” outfits… not really a modern au? i love to imagine the pokemon world with all our worlds pop culture which inspires my designs! long post but enjoy!!! ( ˘ ³˘)��︎

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lyra + 20. champion ranked trainer

♡ Raised by her single mother, aunt and older cousin Kris in the small New Bark home. Her father died when she was 6 in a mining incident involving Team Rocket. Bubbles, her ace Azumarill, was gifted to Lyra by her father on her 5th birthday - being her final gift from him.

♡ Extremely outgoing, sweetly optimistic and immensely empathic. Absolutley loves making friends and talking to every kind of person. However, is extremely competitive & stubbon and gets frustrated easily - resulting in her giving up quickly but is also extremely quick to be re-motivated. Often feels the emotions of others intensely. Very country girl with an extremely strong Johtoian accent and lisp. Loves 'girly' things like makeup + fashion, period dramas and collecting nick-nacks but also loves spending her days outdoors, espcially in the National Park with Ethan watching the bug-catching contests or the Safari Zone.

♡ Struggled with her battle confidence as a young trainer which resulted in her having to re-battle Falkner and Bugsy several times. Over her journey grew an appreciation for pokemon perceived to be 'weak' & cute and built her team around showing the powers of these types of pokemon. Despite being a Champion Ranked trainer, Lyra opted to work with Ethans grandparents at the daycare center where she specialises in pokemon breeding and training weaker pokemon + their trainers.

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silver + 23. champion ranked trainer

♡ Only child of Rocket Boss, Giovanni. Was born and raised on Island 5 of the Sevii Islands by multiple admins, most commonly Archer before running away to Johto. Has a deep rooted and consistent fear that he’ll never amount to anything but “Giovanni's kid”. Was extremely tight lipped about his upbringing to the trio, especially after learning of his loose connection to Lyras father’s passing. Finally told them the truth of his family after the defeat and final disbandment of Team Rocket.

♡ Originally extremely standoffish, condescending and at times, aggressive. As an adult is still quite serious and independent, but genuinely enjoys the time he spends with his friends and is surprisingly protective of them - especially Lyra and Kris. As time passed, his anger towards his father evolved more into guilt, however, over the years has become more patient, gentle and forgiving with not only others but himself. He still can come off quite intimidating to strangers, but these changes are noticeably visible to those close to him. While usually a quiet person, has a very dry and witty sense of humour that takes most people by surprise.

♡ Mentored by Lance, and later Blue, and spends a large amount of time training in the Dragons Den. While unsure of what direction he wants his life to go into, Lance is adamant he would make a fantastic gym leader or elite four member. Always accompanies Lyra to the yearly Champion Balls and Alola trips. Currently lives in a small beachside bungalow with Lyra in Cherrygrove where he enjoys spending his free time reading and teaching himself guitar.

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ethan + 21

♡ The childhood friend of Lyra, Ethan was raised by his father and grandparents in New Bark. Extremely courteous, friend & family oriented and easy to talk to. A natural comic and can make even the straightest face people crack a slight smile - Red being his proudest achievement. Lax and slightly ditsy but can adapt to any situation and group of people like a flick of a switch. Not the best at articulating himself but always puts 110% into making sure people feel comfortable through his actions.

♡ Completed the 8 Johto gyms but never challenged the Elite Four & Lance in favour for persuing his true passions. Currently works at the Goldenrod Radio Tower where he co-hosts a program consisting of interviewing gym leaders, elite four, champions and other prolific battlers. At nights, does standup in the clubs in the Goldenrod Tunnel. Due to his easy-going nature and career, tends to knows everyone’s buisness + gossip and has crazy experiences with nearly any person imaginable.

♡ Currently lives in a small loft in Goldenrod. Spends his free time watching anime + cartoons or in the National Park either watching the Bug Contests, skating or talking to the old folks. Enjoys the nightlife of Goldenrod where he usually pulls Silver out to bar hop or spend hours playing Voltorb Flip.

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kris + 25

♡ Oldest and mother figure of the group. Was born and grew up in New Bark town with her mother before her cousin Lyra + aunt moved in with them when she was 11. The two shared the large upstairs bedroom growing up where Kris introduced Lyra to contests and the annual Champion & Wallace cups.

♡ Mature, soft spoken and extremely intellegent - both academically and socially. Because of this, can offer solutions on any issue on both a practical and emotional level, no matter the person and situation. Has unique relationships with all three kids but in general sees them as her younger siblings and takes the role as the 'older sister' very seriously. Has a warm and comforting presence, making those even to the likes of Silver feel comfortable confinding in her.

♡ Quite reserved and struggled with her purpose and sexuality growing up, espcially in rural Johto. After the death of her uncle and seeing her daughter’s interests in the Wallace Cups and contests, her mother moved the two to the Hoenn region, settling in Lilycove City when Kris was 13. While starting her gym challenge in the new region, Kris fell in love with Hoenn's unique weather patterns and ecosystems. Eventually she quit the gym challenge to peruse a career as a meteorologist where she now works at the weather institute. When not working, she enjoys attending contests, museums and scuba diving. Finally feeling settled in life, she came out to her family + the trio when she was 20.

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[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Akai Shuuichi isn't afraid of heights. Like any sane person, however, he dreads the fall.

Though he questions his sanity. Because try as he might to stay away from the edge, it calls to him. Staring into sweet oblivion sends shivers down his spine, the uncertainty of his fate a thrill like no other. Most days he trusts in himself, his ability to walk the razor's edge, but he's fallen before. And it hurt.

Of course, pain is just a part of life he's learned to live with. In his line of work, people get injured all the time. And if you can't handle that, you have to be very lucky to make it out alive. For the longest time, death wasn't an option.

(Now, it wouldn't be so bad.)

So he steadied himself, got smarter, hardier. Better at avoiding situations that result in pain. And better at shutting it out, too, when it did appear, in order to keep going.

Why, then, does his chest ache and burn?

It's quite simple.

Layers and layers of ice, degrees of separation in place precisely to protect him from pain like this, melted through by Rei's blazing heat.

What a stupid thing he's done, to get attached again.

He could've tried to resist, at the start. Before things had gone too far. Before he got to know Furuya Rei.

But maybe, by then, it was already too late. In truth, he probably doomed himself years ago, when he accepted Scotch's offer of companionship. It brought Bourbon into his orbit, and the man's never been any less than doggedly persistent. Once Shuuichi let him in, he was never going to escape unscathed.

Shuuichi let him get too close, and got burnt as a result. Could see it coming, too, for the longest time. But how was he supposed to escape Rei's brilliance? His touch, devastatingly kind? It would be like trying to block out the sun - an exercise in painful impossibility.

So he's stopped trying, and embraced the wildfire that is Rei. Of course he burns, it's his nature.

(There's some things Shuuichi will need to reevaluate about his own, now that he has time. Because he certainly never thought of himself as a masochist, and yet, despite the pain, he knows one thing for certain: he wouldn't want things any other way.)

(Not one that is available to him, at least.)

Thus, he resorts to clinging to the vestiges of patience and composure he has cultivated for years to keep working through the situation with a cool head.

To do what is right.

He's putting back together what he tore apart, unwittingly, some three years ago now. Their struggle is over. They deserve to rest and recover, nurse their wounds - together.

It doesn't matter that he feels like he's bleeding out. He's used to patching himself up, after all.

And he's glad that he can do this for his... friends. The term invokes a foreign, gentle joy. They're no longer team mates, no longer allies, no longer forced together by circumstance. That's in the past, now. They stick to each other by choice, these days. That makes them friends, right?

He's happy for his friends.

Shuuichi pours himself another glass of scotch.

.

He should've picked a different hotel than his family.

Rather, his family should've really looked into a permanent residence already, considering Masumi has decided she doesn't want to go back to Britain. It's not like mother could refuse, after all the things his little sister did for her - not least of which, coming clean to Shiho and convincing her to share the APTX antidote, when all was said and done.

They're certainly not lacking in money, and Shuuichi's sure the Hanedas have connections that would make finding a flat, or even a house, possible, even on short notice.

Then again, Masumi told him they've been living in a hotel for more than half a year - maybe they've simply grown used to the comforts. It's not for him, but he's rarely seen eye to eye with mother.

Regardless, none of this excuses banging at his door at seven in the morning, on the dot.

"Shuu, are you up yet?"

Well, if he wasn't, he surely would be, now. Years undercover have left him a light sleeper out of necessity - it's a habit he won't be able to break for quite a while, even if he wanted to.

Still, the splitting headache and nausea make him consider playing dead. He doesn't feel much better than it, in any case.

Another set of knocks shakes his door. He loves his sister, and her determination is one of her best traits. But some of these days, it's also highly inconvenient.

"One moment."

He drags himself off the barstool, checks the mirror. Can almost hear Rei telling him he looks like death warmed over. Roughly two hours of sleep half-draped over the hotel room bar certainly didn't do him any favours.

He buttons up his shirt in an attempt at modesty, combs back his hair roughly. Part of him wants to send Masumi away - she's idolised him for too long. His little sister doesn't deserve to have the illusion of composure shattered, shouldn't have to see him, like this.

But she told him, at her birthday party, trying alcohol for the first time in their family home, under his watchful eyes. Always direct, but, as it turned out, even more so when tipsy:

'When all of this is over, I want my brother back. Just...you, however you are.'

If Shuuichi waits for a time where he feels ready to talk to her, won't stain her merely by existing in proximity, they'll never get to meet at all.

(He can't have that. He's missed too much, already.)

So he drags himself to the door, dishevelled, morning breath and all. Opens it a crack.

"Morning." If his voice is a little rougher than usual, there's nothing he can do about it.

Masumi pushes the door wide open so she can step in, giving him a wide berth. Inspects him head to toe, worry clear in her scowl and the wrinkle of her nose.

"...is this a bad time?", she asks, a glint to her eyes as she notices the half-empty bottle of scotch on the bar's counter. She can't help it - a detective through and through, and not good enough at feigning nonchalance yet. The evidence at the crime scene is surely forming a rather damning picture - he really should have put the bottle back into the bar before letting her in.

She plops down on the small sofa, makes herself comfortable while he opens the window. That should at least give them some relief from the smells accumulated overnight in the room.

"No. You're just here early. Is something the matter?"

He doesn't bother with pleasantries on principle, but at this hour he finds himself even less inclined. Besides - she wouldn't be here this early if it wasn't important. At least Shuuichi dearly hopes she has more sense than that.

Masumi looks down at the floor, a little guilty. He settles on the barstool and waits for her hesitation to blow over. Must really be looking like shit, if he's managed to curb her usual enthusiasm.

"I was going to ask for a favour, but I'm really not sure-"

He gives her an unimpressed look, from up upon his perch. It's a little too early to beat around the bush.

"Masumi." A single word, aimed to cut her off with calm precision. "How do I help?"

He might not be feeling well, but he's a professional - he's worked in worse conditions, for less important reasons. He'll drag himself out of his slump, if she needs him.

"You don't have to. It's silly." She gives him a sheepish smile, fangs and all.

"That's for me to decide, once you let me know what you need. So?"

She steadies herself, looks up at him, and sighs.

"For context, it's been months now, but Ran's still down about the whole Shinichi fiasco. So, we've decided to surprise her with an outing, tomorrow night."

So far so good, although he doesn't see where that concerns him.

"It was gonna be just us girls, and I'm confident that between Ran and myself, we can handle anyone stupid enough to try and cause trouble. But you know how it is in Beika. There's always a risk."

He does indeed know how Beika has somehow overtaken Osaka in every single criminal statistic there is. If she didn't have friends here, he would suggest moving elsewhere. He hears Nagano is very lovely, all year 'round.

"So we were discussing if there's anyone we could bring for company. And, well-"

"Go on."

"Sonoko somehow - I'd really like her resources - caught wind that Okiya Subaru is back on 'vacation'. She might have suggested asking him to accompany us?"

Not entirely unexpected - miss Suzuki had taken something of a liking to him, for whatever reason. It's a testament to the improvement of his acting skills. Engaging with kids and teenagers is a far cry more difficult and involved than his cover as Rye, somehow.

"...she may also be under the inaccurate impression, you, well, he could be a potential match for Ran."

At least his sister's on the right page there. That's not happening, never in a thousand years. Even if Ran wasn't barely more than half his age, she's too innocent, selfless, kind. If something like love exists in his heart, it couldn't ever be for someone like her - not again.

"You want me to decline the offer, then?" Simple enough.

Masumi shakes her head.

"No, Sonoko's right. It's always good to have an extra pair of eyes, and I'd love to have you with us. Been too long since we last spent time together. Besides, I don't think Ran is even interested in you - or anyone, really, after that disaster..." It takes him a moment to place the bitterness in her voice, uncharacteristic as it is.

"And that is unexpected?"

"No. I get it, she needs time. But she's miserable, and I want her to cheer up already..." Masumi mumbles the latter half to herself, subdued. Shuuichi's not sure he was supposed to hear that, but, well. He did.

"You'll get through to her eventually."

Good back-up gets one out of the toughest of scrapes, he can attest to that. If his sister is determined to get Ran to feel better, her persistence will make it come true, eventually.

"I sure hope so." She smiles up at him.

He finds his lips quirking up in response. "You focus on helping her. I'll cover your back."

He's sure he'll manage not to indulge miss Suzuki's delusions too badly. Rei often let him know how off-putting he can be, after all - finally a good use for his skills.

"Thanks, Shuu."

She gets up. Stops a couple of steps away from him, hovering uncertainly. When he raises an eyebrow, he can almost see the 'ah, fuck it', and then she's hugging him. Shuichi pats her back, a little awkwardly.

"Any time", he says and means it. "If there's anything else..."

She tenses next to him, but shakes her head.

"No, it's...I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Well, now he is a little worried. He'll need to keep an eye out for whatever's troubling her.

"Alright." He won't push her; she'll tell him if she needs to.

Masumi lets go and scurries off, fleeing for the door.

"Text me the time and place, I'll be there."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." She nods and waves her goodbye. He follows to lock the door behind her, the bolt sliding shut with a satisfying clack.

There's just one small problem. He currently doesn't have Okiya's get-up. And Okiya doesn't live in this hotel.

After dropping him off yesterday, Shuuichi had planned not to bother him for a couple of days. Well. That plan has just been tossed out the window rather unceremoniously.

It can't be helped. With a bit of apprehension, he calls Scotch.

.

Under the cover of darkness, Shuuichi scales the garden wall, dropping into the Kudo's backyard without issue. The alarms have been disabled according to the schedule he provided.

He slips in through the unlocked backdoor, shutting it behind himself. The security systems of the place are too familiar; he reactivates them on autopilot. Better to avoid unpleasant surprises, wherever possible.

Clearly, Scotch had a similar idea - Shuuichi can barely see his outline in the darkened kitchen, but the revolver he gave to him gleams in the dim light. It's nice to see he's making good use of it.

Sharp blue eyes scan him.

"The passphrase?"

Nostalgia steals the air from his lungs. Between unsafe safe houses, a trigger-happy Bourbon, and working with people best described as shapeshifters, they needed a way to identify themselves, and quickly, when they returned home.

It's been years since he's last spoken it, but the passphrase comes to him as easily as breathing.

"Eat, drink, and be merry..."

Scotch had suggested the words, years ago. The motto he lived by, when not on the job, in order to not lose his sanity. The motto he'd imposed on Rye, as well, when they became partners.

A cheshire grin in the night.

"...for tomorrow we die." Scotch finishes their creed, lowers the revolver.

"Welcome home, Rye."

.

It's always been easy to find comfort by Scotch's side. Between the greeting, making gyoza together - which goes much better than their attempts years ago - and watching mindless action movies with a glass of bourbon, ripping apart impossible stunt work, it's difficult not to fall into a simulacrum of the fragile peace they'd carved out for themselves, away from organisation work.

Only this time, the peace is real.

Despite his apprehensions about meeting Scotch, Shuuichi's glad he's here - travelling with him is one thing, but he didn't realize just how much he's missed downtime with his ex-partner. Scotch's sharp intellect and easy-going attitude make for pleasant company.

It's exactly what he needs to unwind.

Which is why he doesn't see how Scotch has him cornered until it's too late.

.

The neighbourhood of the Kudo manor is quiet, at night.

As they head out onto the balcony for a smoke in the moonlight, their conversation turns to hushed whispers. Mellowed by an evening of pleasant company and several drinks, the world sharpens into focus between them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes.

Standing would be too visible, so they sit on the stone floor, side by side, like so many times before.

"Hey, Akai?" His name, not his monicker. A chilling sense of dread creeps into his chest. Please, no.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Shuuichi closes his eyes. He can take a good guess where this is going. Thus, he takes a deep drag from his cigarette, and braces himself.

"You know. For letting me meet Zero."

He'd been hoping against hope they could avoid the topic altogether. After all, they've made it several hours without addressing it. But unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out.

(Still, having seen Scotch in good spirits all evening makes it worthwhile, just a bit.)

Maybe they can just move along quickly.

"Think nothing of it."

"No. Akai, listen. I know you had to pull some strings to make it happen, and I want you to know I appreciate that. We appreciate that - even if Zero is pissed. First thing he did was slap me; told me I was late."

Scotch laughs, low and sweet in the night air.

They both know he let himself get slapped - Rei tends to telegraph too much, when he's angry, and surely it's even more obvious for someone so intimately familiar with him. The thought stings. And yet, through it, Shuuichi can't help the help the small smile creeping on his face. That sounds like Rei, all right. He would've liked to see it - someone else the target of his anger, for once.

Scotch seems happy to just bask in the memory, but Shuuichi's curiosity has been piqued.

"Did you manage to resolve your issues?" After all, that was the goal. If they didn't, none of this was worth it - several hoops he jumped through, bureaucratic and personal, for nothing.

"It's tentative, so far, but I have faith we'll get there. We've been through too much, together, at this point. This won't break us... I hope."

Shuuichi is reminded painfully of the bits and pieces he's heard of their childhood adventures. Fishing and fighting and being friends. It must be nice, to have found love so early in life. To get to keep it, too.

"I don't think so, it's clear how much he missed you. I'd be surprised if he ever let you go again." It leaves him a little cold, to no longer be the focal point of Furuya's burning determination. Chasing him was always just a means to an end for getting to Scotch. And now his wish has been granted. Shuuichi hopes it's worth it.

When he smiles, Shuuichi is sure this is Hiro, the person closest to Rei. It burns, but at the same time he finds himself glad that Scotch shines with such utter fondness when he talks of Zero. That's what Rei deserves, after all.

"I hope so. I don't intend to leave again, anyways. Every single day when I was hiding, I missed him."

It's a quiet, gentle admission Akai isn't sure how to handle. All these emotions are a bit too much - he's not used to being thanked, unless it's with useless medals, and he's not used to being confided in. He supposes it's nice that Scotch trusts him enough to lay himself bare like this, nowadays. Still, he can't help but wish for the old times, when they were much better at keeping their feelings out of his face. He's already happy for them; isn't that enough?

Scotch turns to look at him, blue eyes burning bright in the moonlight.

"And I missed you, too."

Cold wind tousles his hair. Shuuichi stares at Scotch.

If he didn't know what to say before, he certainly doesn't do so now. How can Hiro say that so easily? It's too personal. It's one thing to have his little sister say it, who only ever saw an idealized version of him to look up to. For Scotch to say this, despite knowing what he did, who he is - it makes Shuuichi nauseous.

Because he can tell Scotch is being painfully genuine.

'I missed you too', burns in his throat. But too many conflicting emotions keep it tightly sealed. His breathing becomes difficult, requires a conscious effort to take air in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.

And Scotch isn't even done yet.

"Akai. I have to get used to that name now, huh? Feel free to call me by my name, too, if you want."

With how his mind is spinning, it's difficult to figure out what he wants at all, besides for Scotch, no, Hiromitsu to stop. He's ripping apart the bubble of warm nostalgia that was enveloping them so nicely, leaving them exposed to the present. The night is cold and uncertain, without its protection.

"...you haven't been meeting my eyes all evening. Please, Akai - let me know what's wrong. We couldn't, back then, but I'd like to be your friend, now."

It's the kindest smile he's seen on Sc- Hiromitsu yet, and it's too much. Shuuichi has to avert his eyes, can't keep looking at his former partner, all earnest focus placed on him. A shiver runs downs his spine.

There's few things he wants more, in life.

"...we are", he manages to tear from his aching throat, choked up with emotion. This is a bad idea. He's not supposed to get attached. He's just making the same mistake, over and over again. He should've kept quiet.

(If he'd told Akemi how he truly felt, would it have mattered?)

"Then why do you seem miserable, whenever you look at me? Why do you try to avoid me? Don't think I didn't notice."

Of course he did, always too sharp. So helpful, on a mission, and occasionally in private too; he'd know they were getting sick before they really felt it, start treatment with soup and tea early. Taking care of them, even then.

"It's got nothing to do with you, it's-" 'me', he wants to say. Fear and bitter envy, the brunt of which Hiromitsu really doesn't deserve to face. So Shuuichi's been trying to avoid them, and, by extension, his former partner.

He manages to catch himself in time, before he gives voice to feelings that can't be unsaid.

"Yes?" Hiromitsu's voice is calm and patient and Shuuichi hates him for the attention he's paying to him.

He manages to correct his course in time, if barely.

"You and Rei deserve some time alone, now that you're finally back together." It's close enough, only a partial lie. They're so important to each other, and he truly wants them to make up. He'd only be in their way.

"Rei, hm?" Hiro smiles at him. Of course he picked up on Shuuichi's blunder.

He's had just about enough of being cornered. Gets up and is about to head inside and maybe hide in the attic for a while. The door can be barricaded from the inside. Hiromitsu rises after him, puts a hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Let. Go." It takes all his patience to not just break Scotch's arm and leave.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Akai. Please, give me half a minute more."

Unfortunately, his best glare stopped working on Scotch several years back. Shuuichi looks at his wristwatch, starts counting down. As soon as Hiromitsu starts talking, he knows his time is better spent focusing on what he has to say, instead.

"Look at me, Akai, and listen up. You can't get between the two of us. I've offered you a place at my side years ago, and Zero... well, he's come around. The offer still stands. It wasn't conditional, but if it was, you would've earned your place easily, by now. I owe you my life, and so does Zero, several times over."

"We did what we had to, and you did the same for me." For the longest time it was that simple, their relationship purely transactional, because Bourbon could only ever deal in exchanges. A favour for a favour.

It's long since stopped working that way, and Shuuichi knows it.

"Oh, please. None us had to do anything more than cooperate on missions, and yet we all chose to do so anyways. You're one of us, Akai. Stop fighting it."

And he wants to, desperately so. The thought of spilling his rotten insides for them to see has him sick to his stomach, and yet, how much worse could it be than what they've already witnessed?

Hiromitsu squeezes his arm, a burning brand of human connection. It staves off the cold, just a little.

When he speaks again, it's soft, but firm.

"You should've joined us for dinner, yesterday. Both of us missed you."

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say to that, too busy fighting his internal battles, but surely something shows on his face, because Hiro laughs at him.

"As amusing as it is to see you flush, no, that wasn't an invitation to a threesome."

...he isn't quite sure whether he's supposed to be relieved, or crestfallen, at this.

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." Hiromitsu's smile is too sly and knowing. It's a testament to the fact Shuuichi's spent too much time with Furuya, because wiping it off his face in a fight sure sounds appealing, right about now.

He's always been better at expressing himself through deeds rather than words, anyways.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't need to set the record straight. Zero's furious, by the way. Count yourself lucky that I'm the one breaking the news to you. He doesn't appreciate being set up on a date with his best friend."

Hiromitsu pauses, presumably to let that sink in. Shuuichi stares him down. That is supposed to be new information, how?

"Let me be perfectly clear: I love Zero."

He says it easily, with a sweet smile. It stings fiercely in Shuuichi's chest. By now, he thinks he knows what Hiromitsu is playing at, but unfortunately that knowledge doesn't prevent it from being an effective tactic.

(If this is how Hiromitsu treats his friends, he doesn't want to be his enemy.)

"He's my best friend, I love him like a brother. But he's family. Nothing more, nothing less."

There's a small pang of guilt at the relief that floods his system, but he needs it said explicitly to really believe it.

"You aren't a couple, then?"

Hiromitsu raises an eyebrow, as if to ask 'and why would that matter to you?' But thankfully he's done teasing, or Shuuichi really would need to break something, or rather, someone.

"No. I can see how you got the idea, but there's never been anything between us. Zero says you have a brother? Imagine we presumed the same about you two, just because you're close."

The confirmation lets him breathe more freely, even if it will need time to settle. His mind is still spinning, too many thoughts fighting for control. From this mess, of all things, his long-forgotten manners emerge as the failsafe. "Sorry."

Hiromitsu waves it off with a grin.

"I don't mind too much, we got excellent dinner out of it. Thank you for that, by the way. But do make sure to apologize properly to Rei."

Hiro winks at him, then straightens, looks him in the eye.

Squeezes his arm a final time, before he lets go.

"I mean it, Akai - you're our friend. And I hope you rest a little easier, knowing the truth."

Shuuichi does.

.

He's five minutes late to the requested location downtown - through little fault of his own, this time.

Masumi's text arrived a mere twenty minutes ago, and the things PSB liaison Akai Shuuichi might get away with, such as speeding, don't apply to the civilian Okiya Subaru (though that would admittedly be a very nice perk of the job).

He can hazard a guess why Masumi didn't send the details earlier as he drives past the building in question to find a parking spot - she probably didn't want to give him time to reconsider and back out.

Because she's dragging him to a goddamn karaoke bar, and, standing in the huddle of girls waiting for him, is Miyano Shiho.

His instincts tell him to cancel, to take up position on the rooftop bar across the street - it would provide easier surveillance options.

(But he's tried to protect Akemi from afar, and failed her, miserably.)

Besides, he promised, and he really does try to be better, these days.

So he smiles, all awkward and apologetic Subaru, as he joins them. It's going to be a long night.

(He's soothed by the smell of Rei's hypoallergic fabric softener clinging to the sweater he picked. Can't help but feel that there would be a certain appeal to sharing them, if Rei were open to the idea.)

.

The evening goes better than he imagined, all things considered, even if there's crying involved - as is often the case when he meets Mouri Ran.

It's a pleasant distraction, if nothing else.

He keeps an eye on Masumi all night to see what could possibly be bothering her, but as far as he can tell she's genuinely happy to spend the night with her friends. In fact, considering she told him how it had been too long since they'd last seen each other, she pays surprisingly little attention to him.

He prefers it this way.

(Although he would've liked to ask for her advice on how to apologise properly. Alas, this is probably not the right time, or place.)

.

Mostly he stays at their table, watching the girls' drinks and the crowd, occasionally giving guys who seem to consider chatting the girls up cheerful glares. Masumi made her wishes very clear, after all.

It's a good thing he talked to Scotch Hiromitsu yesterday. Enthusiasm permeates the bar, but unfortunately confidence doesn't equate to talent. Several of the loud, out of tune performances would've been torture with a hangover.

He finds himself humming along to the classics regardless.

As it is, it's almost pleasant. Sure, Shiho keeps ignoring him when it's just the two of them left at the table, but that's better than open hostility. Probably.

(It feels a little worse.)

.

Two hours in Sonoko ushers Ran to stay with Subaru rather conspicuously.

Smalltalk is stilted between them, lacking in common ground, and it doesn't really help that their connection is through the Kudo family, the memories of which she's here to escape for the night. She's polite as ever, but without the other girls as buffer, the conversation quickly runs dry.

Thankfully, the girls' singing distracts them soon enough. A cutesy pop song about moving on, dedicated to Ran.

She seems about ready to cry halfway through, and by the time they're done she's sniffling and trying to discreetly wipe her tears. Shuuichi gives her a handkerchief and pats her back rather awkwardly in an effort to try and soothe her. He hopes the girls will be back soon to take care of this. He's woefully underqualified to handle this kind of situation.

When they finally do get back, he plans to excuse himself, but before he finds a good time he's swept up in a group hug instead.

Turns out he might have misread the situation - what with Ran being overjoyed at her friends' continued support, and needing to express that, somehow. How exactly that translates into him also being included in their huddle is beyond his comprehension, but he's not going to struggle and cause a scene.

(It's kind of nice to see her smile again - gloominess doesn't suit her.)

.

It might've been a bit too much excitement for Ran, because around midnight she's almost falling asleep at their table. At this point, the rest of the girls declare their mission a success, and the focus shifts to trying to figure out how to get back in the middle of the night.

Shuuichi volunteers to drive them home.

It's crammed in his little Subaru, but the girls manage, and once he's dropped off Sonoko, things quiet down considerably.

Masumi makes him swear not to tell their mother how long they were out.

He agrees, of course, knowing he got up to much worse as a teen - back when he was still susceptible to peer pressure and living abroad in a fraternity, alcohol made him do very stupid things indeed to prove his worth.

If this is how Masumi chooses to defy their mother, he'll take it - she could be up to so much worse.

She's arranged to stay with Ran; thus, he's released from his services for the night. He watches as they help each other up the stairs, leaning in close, whispering and laughing to each other.

He would make an assumption, now, but Hiromitsu's words are still clear in his mind.

So for now, he refrains, and is simply glad they're supporting each other.

.

In the end, predictably, Shiho is the only one left in the car.

"Didn't dare to join us wearing your own skin, cousin?"

He shrugs. "Masumi requested Subaru."

"Well. At least you didn't creep on us from several buildings away. Baby steps." 'But progress, nonetheless', her small smile says.

He doesn't know why he says it. Maybe because it's late. Because Scotch Hiromitsu has chipped away at his protective tissue. Because it's Shiho.

"Staying away didn't save her." He doesn't need to say who - the same wound is carved into Shiho's heart, after all. And judging by the songs she chose to sing today, it still bleeds just the same.

She sighs, long-winded and too world-weary for a girl her age.

"No. No, it didn't. All it did was rob us of the time we had with her. Utter idiocy, in retrospect."

Shuuichi hums in agreement. Lost opportunities they'll never get back, all thanks to lies and the wish to protect her.

"I tried to push her away, you know? I was too involved - maybe, if she didn't know what I was doing, she could retain her innocence. Maybe she could even leave, one day, I'd hoped. But she clung to me stubbornly."

Never backing down from what she wanted, from those she loved. That's the women he fell for.

Shuuichi finds himself smiling, somewhat pained.

"She loved you dearly, to the bitter end."

He hands her the flip phone that has been his constant companion for almost a year now. Past the lockscreen waits Akemi's last message to him. With its P.S., asking him to protect her dear little sister, if the worst should come to pass.

He never got to reply to her, to promise that he would, of course he would.

It's short, so Shiho doesn't take long to read it. She attempts to hand it back, eyes glistening, but not crying.

Always composed, in front of him.

"Keep it."

It hurts to let go of it, but Shiho deserves to have assurance of Akemi's love, even in death.

(Unlike himself, who only ever lied to her.)

She looks up at him, uncertain, but what she reads on his face seems enough to convince her. She snaps the phone shut, cradles it to her chest.

Smiles grimly at him. "Thank you."

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

They split up in front of the Kudo mansion.

"...I was planning to visit her grave on the weekend. You should come."

.

Shuuichi knows where Akemi's ashes have been laid to rest - he was the one to pay for her funeral, after all.

(Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of a future with her, of being family. Cruel irony, how that turned out to be true.)

Since her parents were never officially buried, and he hadn't been able to reach Shiho, he'd made the selfish decision to have Akemi's ashes stored in the Sera family grave.

He hasn't had the time to visit, yet - first, things had been too dangerous, then too busy, and by now, he's really just been unable to face her, alone. He's glad he doesn't have to, now.

Shiho sets down an incense stick, and some cut flowers - white gladioli. Shuuichi squats down next to her, puts down his flowers - lilies, also white - into the vase and lights the incense.

"Hey, sis. Look who I managed to drag along."

"Hello, Akemi." Sorry it took so long.

They stand, side by side, in silent prayer.

He's had days to prepare himself, to think about what he wants to say to her. But as he stands before her grave, all that's left is sorrow, a hollow in his chest where she should be.

(Filled with regret, and someone else. Jodie's right. He's a terrible partner.)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I left you behind.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I miss you.

The gentle smile when she talked about her little sister. The sweet blush when he'd kissed her hand. The way she'd awkwardly apologize for flipping the pancake she was making for breakfast into the sink. The ikebana arrangements she'd spend hours and hours on, decorating her flat. Her kind hands, mending his body and soothing his soul. The way the sunlight would turn her hair into gold.

A thousand small joys she gave to him, and all he had for her in turn were lies.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried - maybe as a child, when he fell and scraped his knee. It feels so far away.

His body doesn't remember how to, either - otherwise he surely would be, now.

How cruel. Even in death, he can't show her his honest feelings.

Shuuichi shows her cold comfort, instead.

Takes out a plastic evidence bag he requisitioned from the PSB, and places it on the altar as an offering. In it, the shattered scope of a rifle, splattered with its owner's blood. Gin's. It was found by his side, together with his Beretta, the instrument of his voluntary destruction. As the PSB forces had closed in on him, he'd chosen to kill himself, rather than surrender.

When Shuuichi lies awake at night, it irks him that Gin had a choice, at the end, where he took it away from so many others. He didn't deserve that kindness. A part of him is furious that he wasn't there to see his enemy's dying breaths, preferably through the scope of his rifle.

But it was probably for the best - if he'd been there, he's not sure he could've reigned himself in. Might've murdered Gin with his own two hands, and become the kind of monster he swore to hunt. (And if he's completely honest, there's another possibility: caught in a struggle with his enemy, he might have lost sight of his surroundings and slipped up. Facing Gin, that would've been a death sentence.)

Instead, and he's got the boy to thank for that, he was tasked with keeping their allies - Rei - alive and breathing. He can't help but feel like that matters.

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you; you deserved better.

But he won't be making anyone miserable, anymore.

It's over, and they're still standing, in defiance of the bloodlust of their enemies. He's managed to keep one promise to Akemi, at least.

I'll continue to watch over her, if she lets me.

Shiho claps beside him, done with her prayer.

Thank you for everything.

The incense stick's stump turns to ash and scatters in the wind.

I hope your spirit can find peace, Akemi.

.

When he lights himself a cigarette to calm his mind, Shiho holds out a hand, wordlessly, expectantly.

He regards her with mild curiosity, but offers the pack regardless.

"What. You think I haven't done worse?"

She snatches his lighter, and with a hiss of flame, lights up her own cigarette.

"Akemi used to tell me to stay away from drugs, but I deserve this for bringing you here."

She takes a deep drag, managing not to cough. It's clear, from her posture and practiced ease, that it's far from her first foray into smoking.

"I hated you, you know? For the longest time. For playing with her, breaking her heart, leaving her behind, all alone. Leaving her to die."

It burns his lungs, to have his own thoughts voiced out loud, by Shiho of all people. But he deserves every cruel word dropped from her lips - she speaks nothing but the truth, after all. He needs to bear her judgement.

Shiho smiles, grimly. Doesn't look at him, focused on the grave instead.

"But not Akemi. She saw through you, and loved you still. Forgave you, even, because that's the kind of person she was."

A cold spring breeze plays with her hair. The sweater and cap protect him from the worst of it, but it still bites at his face, makes his eyes sting.

"I don't think I can ever be as forgiving as she was. You were, and still often are, an unrepentant jerk."

She turns to look at him, eyes as hard as steel. So familiar his eyes burn. He can't look away.

"But her death is not your fault."

It's cloaked in insults and pain. But it's an absolution he could never have asked for, one no one else could have given him. His breathing stops, then comes a little easier.

"Neither is it Kudo's. Did he ever tell you? He was there, watched her die. For the longest time, I blamed him for not saving her. He's brilliant when he puts his mind to it. Did he care so little, as to not even try?"

She shakes her head.

"It is a cruel thing to begrudge him for having witnessed her death. He was just a kid - small, powerless, afraid. Up against enemies that tried to kill him, too, only failed through sheer luck. I had to first be put into the same shoes to understand that."

As if she's not just a kid now, too. Neither of them should have gone through what they did, and yet it happened, has left them weathered and worn, tired beyond their years. They're still young - he hopes they can recover from the worst.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault either. She died for me, for us, trying to get us out of there. But I didn't know. She kept it from me, in case something went wrong. And I lie awake, going over conversations, wondering if I missed any signs. If I could've warned her or stopped her. If she could still be here, that way."

He's familiar with the spirals and hypotheticals, repeating the scenario over and over, to look for a way out. It never changes the facts.

"That kind of thinking gets you nowhere."

She gives him a sharp glare, a wordless threat to 'shut the fuck up'. He takes a step back, raising a hand in surrender.

"I know it's useless. Because she is dead, and no amount of analysing can bring her back. At least the one person who truly is at fault will not be a problem any longer. That's a small comfort."

She glares at the scope with barely concealed hatred in her eyes.

"And that's all there is. Akemi was proud and strong-willed - she chose her path. Not reaching out to any of us for help was a choice she made. I can't take away her agency in this matter."

Shiho smiles, pained and beautiful in the setting sun.

"The worst thing is that if she hadn't done what she did, I might still be a prisoner of the organisation. I'd like to think she didn't want to die to achieve it, but she'd be so happy to see me living in the sunlight, once more."

"She would be overjoyed." It's an obvious and simple truth he can't help but confirm.

Oh. Shiho's crying, now, quiet tears trailing down her cheeks, reflecting the sunlight in streaks of gold. It shaves years of her worn face, makes her look as young as she truly is.

He gives her a handkerchief, is glad to see her accept it. She wipes her face, smudging some of the make-up - he'll need to let her know before they return to the public. She doesn't usually like it when people can see past her composure. Shuuichi's pretty sure he, too, shouldn't be here to witness this.

But she doesn't hide from him, today, so he'll take all she gives to him, and treasure it.

"I brought you here because I'm trying to be better. I got a second chance at life, and I want to take it, all of it, for myself and for Akemi. But I won't be able to, if I hold on to useless grudges."

She looks at the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're a jerk, but you're not horrible. And you're trying to be better, too."

She holds out her hand.

"I want to get to know you, Akai Shuuichi. Maybe we could start with meeting for coffee?"

He waits for her to take it back, to reconsider.

She just looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow too when he doesn't comply immediately.

Shuuichi is many things, but he tries not to be a coward.

So he fights the vertigo, takes a leap of faith.

"I'd like that."

And shakes her hand.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[always-reading]

LOST MY FUCKING MIND

[emgoesmed]

11/18/2024

Emergency medicine rotation ✔️

Next: 2 weeks of outpatient clinic and getting my sleep schedule back to normal.

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

As per @bastionbibi's tags:

Option E: all of the above, in that order (or, as I've taken to calling it, the sweater weather AU). At this point, there's several sweaters in the mix. Rei has categorized them, ranked meticulously by comfort, warmth, fuzziness, texture, and, in their line of work particularly important, tendency to leave threads behind. He knows where the sweaters are, in which condition, and, crucially, can always tell them apart, no matter how similar they look.

A couple of hostage exchanges in, Akai-as-Okiya tries to give him the wrong one from a set of two, because, to quote the man: "aren't they the same?" - "No." Rei proceeds to drive Akai to the Kudo mansion because he's not leaving without the damn sweater he came for, if he's already had to meet the FBI idiot for it (words of wisdom from Furuya Rei: the sunk cost fallacy is a myth if you're just determined enough). He really wants to punch the stupid smirk from Akai's face as the man unlocks the door to the mansion for him, turning his back to Rei to step in first and switch on the lights, as if Rei's not an armed threat who tried to shoot him the last time he went through this particular door (does the man have no self-preservation instincts??). Rei refrains (because it's early morning in a residential area, and there's likely to be some joggers out and about), but it's a very near thing. Either way, this kind of failure is unacceptable, so he makes Akai sit through a lecture on the differences of sweater make while he's digging through an oversized wardrobe in search of the offending article of clothing (at least the cream stands out easily in an ocean of black). Sit, in this case, is purely metaphorical as Akai's got the gall to lounge luxuriously on his bed (and great, now that's a pose he never knew he wanted to see the sniper in. On the list of things that haunt him it goes). Rei makes sure to accidentally step on Akai's toes as he's escorted out.

ever since i saw this post asking if akam was wearing the same sweater, it got me thinking. who will be the one stealing the clothes and who keeps finding their clothes stolen?

[fruitcoops]

Bam-Boo!

Day 10: tattoo artist/ flower shop owner because...what the hell else would Mr Walker dream of, other than his hot goth-jock girlfriend? Never passing up that opportunity. Characters belong to @lumosinlove and header/ fest credit goes to @noots-fic-fests!

Day Nine movie: Jaws (1975)

“Stunning.”

A slitted brow rose. Thomas wanted to melt into the concrete like a sad, sad ice cream cone on a hot beach.

Your sign. Your art. Your face. “Plant?” he offered, holding the terracotta pot up between them.

The woman’s suspicion faded into surprise. She looked between them at the vibrant leaves (Thomas had made sure it was his best, and the same color as her eyes, not that she needed to know that) and smiled.

She smiled.

Smiled.

“Mint,” she said, and then there were dimples. “How did you know?”

Thomas swallowed. “Shot in the dark. Your window was empty.”

“Ouais. Still moving in.”

French. Oh, god. “It’s a hard one to kill.”

“I know.” Her fingernails were short and painted a glossy jet black, like thin pieces of obsidian. She took one leaf gently between her thumb and forefinger, then looked up at him with blinding curiosity. “My mother has it in her garden back home.”

“Where’s home?” Thomas asked before he could choke it back into a friendly hum.

But she answered anyway. “Québec. A lake town outside Montréal.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

“Stunning,” she agreed, grinning. Thomas was grateful for his nigh-invisible blush, because his face was in absolute flames.

“I meant—I meant the store,” he managed lamely.

The woman gave him a look. “Did you?”

Yes. Maybe. “Mostly.”

“Quel dommage.”

“Damage?” Thomas frowned at the storefront behind her. “Is it the plumbing? Mine is always acting up because of the irrigation systems. They’re old buildings, sometimes those things crap out—sorry, fail.”

She was still looking at him, expectant and amused. Thomas’ mouth was chalk-dry.

“I could take a look for you,” he offered. “Just…to make sure it’s working.”

Her gaze pierced his soul the same as a thin silver hoop pierced her upper ear. A wisp of her hair flitted in front of it on the next gust. Thomas flexed his hand at his side and forced himself to remain motionless. “Noelle,” she finally said.

His heart stuttered. “Christmas?”

“My name,” she corrected. Her face sparkled. “My name is Noelle, and I would very much appreciate it if you came in to take a look sometime.”

“Oh.” Very much appreciate it. Her name was Christmas, and she very much appreciated him. “Well. I would be happy to.”

Her clunky black boots squeaked at a slight rock forward and back. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed.

“Thank you for the mint.”

“You’re welcome.” She was playing with the leaves again, her hand so close he could see each silver ring and had to quickly look away. A fleur-de-lis had been inked in black behind her silver hoop. Who had done it for her? A coworker at the parlor? A friend? Did she do her own tattoos?

Noelle had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes despite the boots. “I use it in my tea.”

“You have tea?”

“Mhm. Every night.”

“That sounds nice.” He was going to faint. On the ground.

“It is.” Her sweater looked warm, but she still shivered at the next bit of wind that rustled the crunchy leaves down the sidewalk. They’d make it inside by nightfall. Probably.

Thomas might just stay here, now that he thought about it, frozen between his cheerful You Grow, Girl! welcome mat and her own bat-themed one.

“It’s better when it’s fresh,” Noelle continued with half a shrug. “So. Merci beaucoup.”

“We have a lot of extra, if this one doesn’t work out.”

She made a little humming sound, life-green eyes darting over his face and hands and apron and why had he not left his apron inside? “I think it will,” she said decisively.

“Don’t jinx the poor guy,” Thomas tried to joke, giving the mint a light shake. “That’s bad luck he doesn’t need.”

Noelle kept on smiling, like she had no idea what it did to him. “I’ll come by tomorrow for flowers. For the shop.”

For you, Thomas decided right then and there. They’ll all be for you. “Let me know what you like, and I’ll have it ready.”

“I’m sure I’ll find something.” That Mona Lisa smile. She took the pot between callused palms, holding it gently near the rim and under the base. A bit of graphite and ink stained the heels of her hands. He had missed it before. Her eyelashes looked impossibly thick when she glanced up at him. “Any care instructions?”

“Um.” Nothing. Blankness. What was mint, again? “Light and water, mostly. There’s a packet of plant food in the top to start him out while he adjusts.”

Noelle brought the plant up to cover one half of her face. “Feed me,” she joked in a low growl, wiggling the leaves at him. He laughed; the weight across his shoulders grew light. Noelle’s grin widened, all white teeth and a light rose flush to her cheeks.

“I’ll be in at eight tomorrow,” Thomas said before he could chicken out.

Noelle gave a crisp nod. “À demain…?”

“Thomas.” He sounded hoarse even to his own ears. “Thomas Walker.”

She cradled the pot in one hand and waved with the other, stepping back toward the rich black lace and neon purple adorning from her front windows. “See you tomorrow, Thomas Walker.”

Thomas stayed on the sidewalk after all, sneakers refusing to budge. The bell above her door jingled as it shut behind her. “Bye, Christmas,” he whispered to nobody at all.

[stealingpotatoes]

i love love love your anidala art so much!! it always makes me smile!

aww thank you!! hope this lil sketchbook Anidala I did yesterday also makes u smile!!